


It Starts with a Rose

by ArcadianMaggie



Category: Social Network (2010) RPF
Genre: AU, Fluff, Humor, M/M, One Shot, RPF, Rating: NC17, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-06 08:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcadianMaggie/pseuds/ArcadianMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Andrew stumbles across Jesse's Flowers, he's looking to send his girlfriend flowers for her birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Starts with a Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [this prompt](http://tsn-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/6467.html?thread=12426563#t12426563) on the kink meme. As always, thank you to OnTheTurningAway for being my fabulous beta.

Andrew wandered into another shop, hoping he’d see something to inspire him. He made his way to the counter and looked at the jewelry on display. There were rings, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, watches. He knew she liked jewelry, but was that really the sort of present he wanted to buy Christy for her birthday? Wasn’t jewelry a little… romantic? Didn’t jewelry convey a certain status to a relationship? Something along the lines of ‘serious girlfriend’? 

No, he just didn’t think they were there. Jewelry said something he wasn’t quite ready to say.

“Can I help you find something?” the sales clerk asked.

Andrew looked up startled.

“Um, I’m trying to find a present for my girlfriend. It’s her birthday.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Wonderful. Can I help you pick out a piece of jewelry?”

“No, no, I don’t think so, thanks,” he said turning away from the counter.

The woman followed. “How about something else? What’s she like? What sorts of things does she enjoy doing?”

Andrew thought about it for a moment. Honestly, he wasn’t really sure what Christy liked to do. Most of their interactions were either at a club, or at his apartment after clubbing. He knew she liked to suck his dick—it’s how they met, after all, when she approached him in a club one night and pushed him into a bathroom stall and went down on him—but he didn’t think that’s the kind of answer the sales person was looking for.

Furrowing his brow, he thought back on their conversations, trying hard to remember if she had ever mentioned any hobbies. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of a single conversation they’d had that hadn’t revolved around where and when they would meet up for drinks. Well, aside from the sorts of things one said in bed, like… _harder… faster… yes, just like that._

Again, probably not what she was looking for.

Oh, wait! There was that time on the phone where she talked about meeting her friends at the spa. 

Oh! And that other time when she and her friend Alice had made plans for a day of shopping.

“Um, she likes to spend time with her friends? And, you know, shop. And go to the spa. Girl things?” he added.

The clerk gave him an indulgent smile.

“Why don’t we look over here,” she suggested, steering him towards some handbags and scarves. “Maybe you can give me an idea of what she looks like. Is she a blonde? Brunette?”

“She’s got, um, dark hair. And, um, eyes. You know… Asian?”

“All right. What do you think about something like this?” the woman asked, holding open a scarf. “It should go lovely with her coloring.”

A short while later Andrew found himself with a beautifully wrapped package, the silk scarf folded neatly inside. The sales woman had placed the box in an oversize shopping bag, the boutique’s name printed clearly on the outside, and handed it to him by the handles, saying, “Maybe pick up some flowers on the way home?”

“Flowers. Right. Yes, thanks very much,” Andrew said, nodding. Flowers. He could do that.

Pulling out his phone as he exited the store, Andrew did a quick search for florists. He smiled when he found one just a few blocks away.

When he reached the store, he realized it was a few doors down from a coffee shop he frequented. He wondered how he had never noticed it before. The shop itself was unassuming, with a green awning above the door and ‘Jesse’s Flowers’ painted simply across the window.

A small bell rang as he entered the shop and a man looked up from behind the counter. He was perched on a stool with a laptop open beside him. “Can I help you?” the man asked with a small smile, and Andrew found himself staring into the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen.

After a moment he realized he was still staring—staring rudely at the beautiful blue-eyed man—and he hadn’t even responded to the question.

He rubbed the back of his neck as his face flushed with embarrassment. “Right,” he muttered to himself with a small laugh. Then he found his voice, “Flowers? I was hoping to buy some flowers.”

“What a coincidence,” the man answered with a slightly bigger smile. Andrew tried not to get distracted by the dimple that appeared in the man’s cheek. “I happen to sell flowers.”

“That is fortuitous,” Andrew responded and somehow they were smiling foolishly at each other. He might have felt somewhat like an idiot if he wasn’t a bit giddy inside.

The man gave a small laugh and slid off the stool, coming out from behind the counter. He was slim and slightly shorter than Andrew with curly brown hair and was dressed in jeans and dark blue button down shirt. His eyes looked even bluer up close.

“So who are they for?”

“Who are what for?” Andrew asked, mesmerized by the man’s mouth; his lips were so pink and full. 

Those very lips quirked up again in a wide smile, revealing straight white teeth. “The flowers?”

“Oh, right,” Andrew said, shaking his head with a laugh. “Um, my girlfriend? It’s her birthday.”

“All right,” he walked over to the opposite wall where there was case after case of refrigerated flowers. “How about roses. That’s always a classic choice.”

Andrew grimaced. Roses were like jewelry, he thought. They _said something_ about the relationship. And he suspected the sorts of things they said would never apply to a girl he realized only today he didn’t have the slightest idea what sorts of books she liked. Or even if she read books at all. No, no roses. Definitely overkill.

“Not roses, I don’t think. We haven’t been seeing each other that long.” If you could even really call hooking up every weekend ‘seeing each other’.

“Okay. Does she have a favorite flower? Maybe you could go with that.”

Andrew snorted. “I honestly have no idea.” He looked in the cases containing a huge number of bouquets and arrangements and buckets of flowers and felt a little overwhelmed. Who knew it would be this complicated to celebrate Christy’s birthday?

“What about those?” Andrew asked, pointing to some elegant white flowers. “Those are lilies, right?”

“Yes, white lilies, symbolizing purity and modesty.”

Andrew snorted again. “Definitely not.” He could see the man attempting to hide a smile.

“What about that flowering plant? That’s pretty.”

The man opened the case and pulled out the arrangement. He held it to his face and took a deep breath, then held it towards Andrew to smell. “Here… they’re very fragrant.”

As Andrew leaned closer, he added, “Gardenia, for secret love.”

Andrew reared back his head in alarm and this time the man didn’t even attempt to hide his smile. That dimple was in full force. He could see how it was. That was okay; he could play along.

“How about these?” he asked, pointing to some tulips.

The man raised his eyebrows and nodded his head in approval, as if Andrew was lucky, indeed. “Perfect lover.”

Andrew couldn’t help the little roll of his eyes. 

“I should have guessed the red would be trouble. What about the yellow?”

“Hopelessly in love.”

“And these?” he asked next, pointing to some spiky purplish things that looked like they were maybe used for filler.

“Let’s elope.”

“You’re joking!” Andrew exclaimed.

“I never joke about flowers,” the man said, in a deadpan voice.

“I thought I walked into a florist, not a mine field.”

The man grinned and Andrew couldn’t help but grin back.

“Well, what sort of message do you want your flowers to send?” the man asked. “What do you want them to say?”

Andrew thought for a minute. What were the chances Christy would even know what the flowers meant in the first place if she didn’t even read books? 

On the other hand, she was a girl, and in his experience, that was the sort of thing girls instinctively knew.

“I want them to say ‘Happy Birthday’,” he finally decided.

“I think I can help you with that,” the man said, walking over to a different case and pulling out a bouquet of yellow daffodils.

“Daffodils?” Andrew asked in surprise. 

“They’re the traditional flower for March birthdays.”

He nodded his head in acceptance. That sounded simple enough. And he had always liked daffodils. They were so bright and cheery. He thought he had better check though. “Any hidden secret meanings?”

“Regard… chivalry.”

“I can work with that,” he answered with a smile.

“I thought that might be the case.”

They walked to the counter and Andrew studied the man as he rung up the flowers. Strong jaw, amazing cheekbones. He was lovely. Their fingers brushed when he handed over his credit card and Andrew had the sudden urge to take his hand in his own and hold it, never letting it go.

“If I asked you what your favorite book was, would you be able to tell me?”

The man looked up startled and stared at Andrew with a puzzled expression, as if wondering where the question had come from.

He shook his head no. “Probably not.”

Inexplicably, Andrew’s heart sunk. He knew this lovely man was too good to be true.

But then he continued. “I mean, they’re all like old friends, aren’t they? How can you possibly choose just one? And at different times in your life, some become more important than others. I could maybe give a top ten, but you’d have to understand it’d be subject to change…” he trailed off, a slight flush rising on his cheeks.

Andrew rushed to reassure him. “No, no. I know exactly what you mean,” he said, beaming.

“You do?” his smile was shy.

“I do.” He held out his hand. “My name is Andrew.”

“I’m Jesse,” the other man said as he reached out to shake his hand. 

“Like the flower shop?” Andrew asked stupidly, with a huge smile on his face.

“Like the flower shop,” Jesse replied, smiling back. His hand was warm.

“What a coincidence,” said Andrew.

\--o--

That certainly didn’t turn out as expected, Andrew thought to himself as he sat alone at the table, completely frazzled, water dripping off the edge and the remains of a burnt scarf smoldering in the center. He’d best leave a sizable tip.

Dinner had started off well enough. Christy had met him at the restaurant, having spent the afternoon at the spa with Alice. She looked hot, as always, and he told her so as he rose to kiss her cheek before holding out the back of her chair.

“These are for you,” he said, handing her the flowers and she smiled and said thank you, so he figured he got at least that part right. He sent a mental thank you of his own to the shop clerk at the boutique who had suggested the flowers and to the lovely Jesse, the helpful proprietor of Jesse’s Flowers.

It all went downhill from there.

They ordered drinks without incident, but the trouble really started when he tried to strike up a conversation.

All afternoon long he had been troubled by the idea that he and Christy apparently had nothing in common besides going to clubs, a love of sex, and public blowjobs. And while all those things were fine and good, especially the sex, and the blowjobs, were they really the sorts of things one could build a relationship on? Now someone like Jesse, who obviously had a passion for books and sense of humor that just clicked with his own, almost instantly, that was the kind of person one could build a future with. A future of long conversations and slow lazy kisses. And, of course, sex and blowjobs were not precluded. 

With those sorts of thoughts running through his mind, he had to wonder: did he really want a relationship with someone who had absolutely no outside interests beyond shopping and going to the spa?

“Do you even read books?” he blurted out, before they had even ordered their appetizers.

“What?” she asked, her face morphing into an extremely unattractive expression. “What kind of question is that?

“It was just a question.”

“It didn’t sound like just a question. It sounded like an accusation.”

“Well, it wasn’t.”

“It sounded like one.”

“Well,” he repeated, slower and with emphasis, “It wasn’t.”

“Well,” she said, mimicking his tone perfectly before snapping at him, “Of course I read books, you moron. I graduated from Stanford.”

He rolled his eyes. Was the name calling really necessary? “I didn’t mean it like that. I was only interested in the sorts of books you liked. You know, trying to make conversation.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me that, then?”

“What? I don’t know. What does it matter? Surely it was obvious what I meant?”

“If it were obvious, would I be this upset?”

“How should I know what sorts of things upset you? You won’t even tell me the kinds of books you like to read.”

She opened her mouth to respond then shut it quickly, her jaw clenching.

“Let’s just order,” she bit out.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

And that was the _good_ part of the evening.

If he had thought the flower shop was a mine field, it was nothing compared to trying to carry on an actual conversation with Christy.

Every time he asked a question, it became obvious from her dirty looks and increasingly curt responses that he should have probably already known the answers.

But, really, how was he to know that she had two younger brothers, or that Alice was her roommate in college, or that Christy had studied engineering? It’s not like these things ever came up while they were grinding in the club with the music blaring or that they were able to carry on a conversation while her lips were wrapped around his cock.

In retrospect he realized he probably should never have given the answer he did when she asked, exasperated, “God, Andrew, do you even know anything about me at all?”

They were having dessert—not with a candle, mind you, or singing wait staff; he at least knew that much. Trying to salvage the evening, he pulled out the nicely wrapped package from the bag down at his side and handed it to her with a, “Happy birthday.”

She looked at it with a delighted smile and he inwardly sighed in relief. Relief which was short-lived as he watched her expression change dramatically once the package had been opened.

Lifting the scarf by its corner and holding it up in the air, a look of disgust and contempt on her face, he could only think to respond to her question with, “I know you give great head…”

He shouldn’t have been surprised, really, when she stood up from the table, still holding the scarf, and leaned over to say in a scary voice, steady with that steely sort of rage, “Correction. _Gave_ great head.”

Then she opened her fingers, let the scarf flutter to the table in a riot of color, and turned to walk out of the restaurant. 

He braced himself in fear when, thinking she might be coming back to slap him or something (deservedly so, he admitted), she suddenly whirled back around towards the table. But she only grabbed the bouquet of flowers before turning once more and heading to the door.

A sigh escaped him and he collapsed backward in the chair. Once again, his relief lasted but a second. He sniffed the air, smelling something burning, and then watched in shock as the beautiful scarf, which had fallen directly over the decorative tea candle, burst into flames.

Grabbing his water glass in panic, he threw it over the fire, then grabbed Christy’s for good measure, doing the same.

The waiter rushed over, fire extinguisher in hand.

Andrew looked up, his face a mask of stress. “I’ll just take the check.”

\--o--

Andrew groaned as the bright sunlight hit his eyes. What time was it anyway? Following the disastrous date with Christy, he had called his friend Carey to commiserate. She had met him for a drink, which had turned into several drinks, which had led to her calling a taxi to take him home whereupon he collapsed on his bed and immediately passed out, still completely clothed.

His head hurt and his mouth felt like something had died inside.

After taking a shower and brushing his teeth, three times for good measure, he decided the first order of business was some caffeine. If, instead of the coffee shop a block from his apartment, he decided to drive to the one near the flower shop, well, it had absolutely nothing to do with the lovely blue-eyed man who had escorted him through a mine field the day before; it was simply that he had been reminded of the coffee shop when he had seen it nearby, and realized it had been quite a while since he had patronized it.

And if, as he sat drinking his coffee, waiting for the caffeine to kick in, he decided that it might be a good idea to get Christy some flowers, to apologize for his bad behavior—behavior which Carey herself had confirmed, smacking him over the head with her clutch purse, saying, “Oh my god, Andrew. What were you _thinking_?”—it was entirely for the reason that flowers would be a friendly gesture and not at all the possibility that he might see Jesse again.

And if his heart started beating faster when the bell rang as he opened the door to ‘Jesse’s Flowers’, it was undeniably due to the caffeine he had just drank—two strong cups—and definitely not because of the beautiful warm smile of recognition Jesse directed towards him when he walked into the shop.

“You’re back.”

“I am.”

“So the flowers were either a rousing success? Or a terrible failure.”

“Oh, the flowers were a success. She loved them.”

The warm feeling that started blooming in his chest had nothing at all do with the big smile on Jesse’s face. After all, who wouldn’t feel happy thinking about a bright and cheerful flower like the daffodil? They were a bouquet of sunshine. Wordsworth had written poetry.

“Glad to hear it. Then what can I help you with today?”

“I’m looking to buy some flowers.”

“Really? How fortuitous,” Jesse said dryly and Andrew tipped back his head and laughed.

He couldn’t wipe the stupid grin from his face as Jesse came out from behind the counter to assist him.

“Who are the flowers for this time?” he asked. “Your girlfriend again?”

Andrew made a face. “Not… exactly.”

Jesse raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“She’s… not exactly my girlfriend any longer.”

“Oh.” A small frown replaced his lovely smile. 

Andrew wanted nothing more than to bring the smile back to his face, to see that adorable dimple reappear in his cheek.

“I thought you said the flowers were a success.”

“They were. It was, well, _me_ she had the problem with. It’s all right,” he rushed to assure Jesse, noticing the expression on his face growing more concerned. “It never would have worked out in the long run. She’s wasn’t even my type. We’d nothing in common. I really have no idea why we started going out in the first place.” He actually did know, of course—the blowjob in the club bathroom, but he had certainly learned his lesson about mentioning _that_ , thank you very much!

Jesse was studying him as if to determine if Andrew was serious or was only putting on a brave face.

“Dinner was a disaster, really,” Andrew continued, determined to lighten the mood. “I might have said some things that were taken… badly. And things may have been set on fire… I suppose I’m lucky there were no explosive devices nearby.”

There. That did it. Jesse started laughing. 

“You’re joking, I hope.”

“I never joke about pyromania,” Andrew said deadpan.

Jesse smiled even broader.

“So I’m curious, Andrew,” he started, and Andrew felt his pulse quicken when Jesse said his name, a thrill going through him that he had remembered it. “What exactly do you want these flowers to say? What message are you trying to send?”

As Andrew started into Jesse’s beautiful blue eyes, he suddenly knew exactly why he and Christy would never have worked. He suspected asking for flowers that said ‘I’m sorry but I met the most amazing man while buying your birthday flowers’ would be a bit much.

“I’m not exactly sure. I could use your expertise. Do you have any suggestions? Exactly what sorts of flowers does one send to say, ‘I’m sorry I ruined your birthday, but you’re really quite scary, I hope we can still be friends’?” 

With luck, this would take a while.

“Well, the traditional symbol of rejected love is a bouquet of withered flowers.”

“I’m a modern guy. Let’s pass on tradition.”

“Some sweet pea might be just what you’re looking for then.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It says, ‘thank you for the lovely time’.”

Andrew snorted. “I don’t know as if I’d quite characterize it as lovely, what with all the, um… hostility, and the, you know… fire…”

He was rewarded with the dimple.

“How much hostility, would you say?” Jesse asked. “Orange lily level? Strong dislike?”

“That’s a bit harsh. Maybe take it down a notch.”

“It’s too bad it’s not later in the season. You might have enjoyed some monkshood.”

“Really? And why is that?”

“Beware, a deadly foe is near.”

Andrew laughed delightedly.

“I never knew flowers could be so eloquent.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Speaking of surprises, why don’t you surprise me? You did such a fantastic job with the flowers yesterday; I trust you to pick out the right ones for me today as well.”

“All right. I can do that,” Jesse said with a smile. “We can start with the apology.” He looked toward Andrew questioningly. “That is, if you still want that included?”

“Yes. Absolutely,” Andrew nodded in agreement.

Jesse brushed by him as he walked to one of the refrigerated cases. Andrew resisted the urge to squeeze his shoulder as he went by. He also may or may not have been admiring Jesse’s ass as he reached down to retrieve some purple hyacinth.

Next he pulled out some carnations. “Now these aren’t the fanciest flowers,” Jesse commented, “but they’ve always been one of my favorites. They have a wonderful fragrance and they stay fresh for days, plus they come in every color imaginable. These lavender striped ones are a refusal and a ‘sorry we can’t be together’, and the yellow for disappointment and rejection.”

He looked to Andrew for approval.

“Yes, that’s very good. Yes,” Andrew said with another vigorous nod. 

Another flower was added and Jesse said, “A dash of withered hopes, perhaps?”

Andrew chuckled.

“And a yellow iris—” he paused, looking over at Andrew with a sly twinkle in his eye.

“For?” Andrew asked, playing along.

“Flame.”

“Ha. Perfect,” he said laughing.

Jesse added a few daffodils. “And maybe to bring things full circle, your regard?” 

“Excellent. That’s excellent,” Andrew responded with approval.

In moments the entire bouquet was beautifully arranged with some bits of greenery and such, and tied with a ribbon. 

“That’s really lovely,” Andrew complimented his work. “It almost seems a shame to waste it on a pyromaniac.”

“I’ll alert the driver to wear protective gear,” Jesse quipped. “These are for delivery, I’m assuming?” 

“God, yes,” Andrew said, giving a look of mock horror.

Once again, he was rewarded with a dimpled smile. He was tempted to stay in the flower shop all afternoon to try and replicate that expression on Jesse’s face.

“Would you like to include a card?” Jesse asked, sliding one across the counter with a pen.

Andrew picked up the pen and tapped it thoughtfully. What could he possibly say? Eventually, he settled on a simple, “I hope we can someday be friends.”

When he opened his apartment door several days later, after some insistent doorbell buzzing, he was surprised to find a box outside his door. He took the box inside and set it down on the coffee table to examine. On top was a withered bouquet of flowers—he knew what that meant, thank you Jesse—the carnations still surprisingly fresh. Andrew removed the flowers to see what else was in the box and found his old Harvard hoodie, his favorite green belt and his _Arcade Fire_ CD. The final objects in the box, however, were items he didn’t recognize. He reached in, puzzled, and pulled out the severed head of a Barbie doll, his own face cut out from a photograph and taped over the doll’s. And last, the body of the doll with his note pinned to its chest, right through the heart.

He took it that was a “no” on the friend thing, then.

Andrew looked at the withered flowers and severed head and started laughing. Jesse would certainly get a kick out of this too, he thought.

He couldn’t wait to tell him.

\--o--

“I’m in love with my florist,” Andrew blurted out the moment Carey answered her phone.

“The one with the gorgeous blue eyes who reads the most _amazing_ books, by chance?” Carey asked in response.

“What? How on earth did you know that?” 

“You only brought him up about a million times the other night.”

“I did?”

“You certainly did.”

“Right. I suppose I did.” 

Now that she mentioned it, he had a vague recollection of describing Jesse’s face to Carey in minute detail—his eyes, his cheekbones, his amazing mouth, and of course, the _dimples_ —extolling his virtue, comparing his wit and charm to Christy’s psychotic behavior and ultimately ending the evening by swearing off girls forever. 

And this was even before the severed head of Barbie. He had obviously made a timely escape

“Well, what should I _do_ ,” he asked with a plaintive whine.

Carey laughed.

“Don’t laugh at me. I need help. Tell me what to do, Carey. _Pleeease_?”

“What do mean what should you do? Ask him out.”

“I don’t even know if he’s gay.”

Carey made a rude noise. “Andrew, this is L.A. He runs a flower shop. Trust me. He’s gay.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“The odds are decidedly in my favor.”

“Nice. Way to stereotype.”

“God, don’t you _want_ him to be gay?”

“Well, yes.” She had a point.

“Right. So, you asked me what you should do. And I’m telling you. Go ask him out.”

“What? Like, just show up at his shop and ask him on a date?”

“That is the standard method, yes.”

“I can’t do that. I can’t just _show up_ and ask him out. I don’t want to look like, you know, some sort of creeper.”

“Well—”

“Yes, yes. Very funny,” he cut her off. “God, I need a flower emergency. When’s your birthday?”

“You don’t know when my birthday is?” she asked in mock outrage.

“Why are we friends, exactly?”

“You love me. May 28th.”

“Ugh. That’s almost two months away. I need another idea. Like… some sort of holiday. What holidays are between now and your birthday?”

“Easter is in April.”

“Hello… Jewish?”

“Whatever. Passover then.”

“That’s still too far away,” Andrew whined. “I’ll die if I have to wait that long.”

“We can’t have that.” Andrew could practically hear her eyes rolling over the phone line. “Oh, I know! Justin’s going in for surgery next week.”

“He is?” Andrew asked. “That’s fantastic!”

Carey laughed.

“I mean, of course, I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“Of course.”

“Carey. What’s wrong with Justin? Why is he having surgery?”

“He’s developed some nodules on his vocal cords and has to have throat surgery to remove them.”

“Ouch. Is it going to affect his singing?”

“Hopefully not. He’s has to keep his voice rested for three months after, though. Not even talking if he can help it.”

“Really? I probably shouldn’t be as amused about that part as I am. We should get together and hang out. Torture him a little bit. It will be fun!”

Carey was laughing again. “Andrew.”

“Oh, I’m just joking. Sort of. But yes, that’s perfect. Do you know what hospital?”

“Cedars Sinai.”

“Got it. Thanks, Carey. You’re the best.”

“Flatterer.”

“I only speak the truth.”

“I expect details, you know.”

“With any luck, I’ll have some to tell.”

-o-

“Let me guess,” Jesse said, when he walked through the door. “You’re here for some flowers.”

“That’s uncanny,” Andrew replied with a wide grin.

“It’s a gift.”

Andrew continued to smile as Jesse slid off the stool and came around the counter to assist him. He noticed the laptop open again behind him. He had wondered, in the days since he was last here, whether he had imagined his reaction to Jesse, if he had given his initial impressions too much weight, was romanticizing him without truly even knowing him. 

But no, the man was as charming as ever and when Jesse smiled in return, those adorable dimples appearing in his cheek, blue eyes focused directly on him, Andrew felt his heart give a little twist inside his chest.

He had the sudden urge to rush to the case with the spiky purple flowers—the ones Jesse had said meant ‘let’s elope’—and gather them into a bouquet and hand them over, professing his undying love and devotion.

Pushing those thoughts aside, determined to keep the inner creeper at bay, he decided to focus on today’s goal instead: asking Jesse out for coffee. It was no Vegas wedding, but it would have to do.

“What can I help you with today?”

“I have a friend in hospital. I’d like to have an arrangement delivered to his room. And,” he added before Jesse could ask, “You see I’ve learned how this works—I’d like it to say ‘Get Well Soon’.”

“You’re in luck. That’s a sentiment we often hear, and we have ready made arrangements if you’d like to take a look and pick something out.”

“I’m almost disappointed.”

“Or we can always make an arrangement with flowers of your choosing if you prefer.”

Andrew laughed. “I said almost. With my luck I’d be wishing horrible things on him or we’d end up engaged.”

Jesse smiled and Andrew wanted to make it his life’s mission to make those dimples appear day after day after day.

After choosing an arrangement, writing out a card, giving the delivery instructions and paying, Andrew felt his hands begin to sweat as he geared up to make his move. He was still unsure exactly what to say. Should he just come out and ask? Maybe strike up a conversation and suggest continuing it over coffee? Drop to one knee and propose? 

There he went, getting ahead of himself again.

“So how did the last bouquet go over?” Jesse asked. “Or should I not ask?”

Andrew felt a surge of relief. Here was the perfect opening.

“Funny story, that,” he began. “Would you, maybe, like to grab a cup of coffee or something and I’ll tell you all the gory details?”

Jesse looked at his watch, then looked at Andrew who was pulling out all the stops, shamelessly using his big brown eyes to stare at Jesse with a mixture of pleading and hopefulness. 

He hesitated then said, “Sure. Why not? It’s almost closing time anyway.” Andrew may have timed has visit already knowing this pertinent fact.

“There’s a coffee shop on the corner, just a few doors down. If you want to give me ten minutes to close up, I can meet you there.”

Andrew beamed. “That sounds fantastic.”

-o-

After regaling Jesse with the tale of the hapless Barbie and her hideously severed head and pierced heart, every word of which Jesse listened to with obvious amusement, Andrew was pleased when Jesse spoke up during a break in conversation.

“So how do you know Justin Timberlake, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, I don’t mind, not at all. Feel free to ask me anything. We worked together once, and sort of… stayed friends, I suppose?”

Jesse nodded knowingly. “Boy band. I should have guessed. You’ve got that look.”

“What?” Andrew laughed. “No, definitely not.”

“Mouseketeer?”

“You know far too much about Justin’s early career.”

“The man brought sexy back, Andrew,” he said in that adorably deadpan tone. Once again Andrew felt that thrill he got every time Jesse said his name. “Plus, this is L.A. I’m afraid we all know far too much about celebrities’ lives here.”

“True… true. No, I’m an actor. We did a movie together several years ago.”

“Anything I would know?”

“Doubtful. We were both just starting out. It was a pretty terrible movie.”

“I can see I’ll finally be putting my Netflix account to good use.”

“No,” Andrew protested. “It’s awful. Truly. Please don’t.”

Jesse just grinned and Andrew rolled his eyes.

“If you must watch any of them, pick something more recent; at least you’ll be spared the possibility of seeing me sporting a mullet.”

They were interrupted by someone stopping by the table with a tray of coffees to-go in her hand. “Jesse?”

“Oh hey, Lisa.” He stood up and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’d love to stay and catch up, but I’ve got to get these back to Mr. Scorsese.”

“I didn’t realize he was in town.”

“Yes. We wrapped up shooting in Paris, and we’ll be heading to London soon, but we had some loose ends to take care of here first.”

“Give Marty my regards.”

“Will do. See you soon.”

Jesse sat back down. Andrew gave him a penetrating look.

“Marty? And how do you know Martin Scorsese? Well enough to call him Marty? That is, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Jesse cheeks pinked up. “I, um, did some work for him once.”

“Oh, I wasn’t even thinking. I suppose celebrities need florists too. Have you done lots of weddings and that sort of thing?”

“A fair share.”

“Are celebrity brides the worst? Are they like those horrid women on those televisions shows? Making all sorts of crazy demands and saying things like, ‘Don’t you know who I am? I said peonies, not poppies! You’ve ruined the entire wedding! You’ll never pick posies in this town again!’”

As Jesse laughed at his theatrics, a warmth spread through Andrew’s belly. He wanted to make Jesse laugh every day of his life.

“You know I can’t answer that.”

“Why is that?”

“Florist/Bridezilla confidentiality.”

“Of course. Of course.”

“I can, however, tell you one thing.”

“Yes, what’s that?”

“You’re definitely in the right career.”

\--o--

“What on earth are you doing?” Carey asked, looking over Andrew’s shoulder at the web site detailing a long list of Bizarre Holidays, ones for almost every day of the year.

“What? Nothing,” Andrew replied, quickly clicking the browser closed with a guilty look on his face, as if he’d been caught watching porn.

“Yes you were. You were totally checking out flower buying opportunities, weren’t you?”

“No I wasn’t,” he denied.

“You so were.”

“Was not.”

“Were too.”

This could go on indefinitely; Carey was a persistent little thing. Andrew capitulated. “Well so what if I was?” he asked defensively.

“I knew it!”

His shoulders slumped. “I can’t help it,” Andrew said, a hint of a whine in his voice. “It’s been six days since I saw him. Six days, Carey! That’s almost an entire week!”

“You don’t say.”

“Oh shut up,” he laughed at her teasing. “You’re a terrible friend. You should be commiserating with me, or at least helping me find excuses to see him.”

“You don’t need _excuses_ to see him. Just… go see him. I thought the whole coffee thing went well. At least that’s how it sounded from the way you’ve been raving about it for the past six days.”

That was all the opening Andrew needed. “It did go well. He’s so easy to talk to. I know we’ve just met, but I feel like we’ve known each other forever. And he’s charming and funny—”

Carey cut him off, “And intelligent. And his eyes are so _blue_ …”

Andrew looked sheepish. “Yes, well, clearly you’ve heard me talk about all this before.”

“Clearly.”

“I know, I know. I’m being ridiculous. But there’s something about him. I think I could seriously fall in love with this man. I can see us getting married and living in a house together and going shopping and cuddling on the couch watching reality TV…” he trailed off, feeling the back of his neck growing hot as he anticipated Carey’s reaction to his confession.

“Dear Lord you have it bad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way before.” Carey studied him thoughtfully. After a long moment she said, “Pull up that web site again. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Andrew did a little fist pump chair dance and let out a quiet “yesss,” before turning back to the computer to strategize.

-o-

“And what brings you to Jesse’s Flowers today?” the man himself asked when Andrew entered the shop.

 _You_ , Andrew thought. _You, you, you, always you_.

“I’m here for some flowers.”

“What a coincidence.”

Andrew smiled and felt as if this was their own private little joke. He refused to think about whether Jesse had used this shtick with anyone else before. 

Jesse stepped out from behind the counter, asking, “Who are the flowers for this time?” 

“These aren’t actually from me,” Andrew replied. “I’m doing a favor for a friend. You remember me talking about Justin, and his throat surgery?”

“Ah, yes. Your old band mate.”

“Ha. I promise I am not harboring a secret boy band background.”

“I still find it hard to believe. Especially with that hair…”

“My hair is awesome.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. And so do my legion of screaming teenage fans.”

“I _knew_ it!”

They were both laughing at their ridiculous conversation. Jesse’s smile caused something in Andrew’s belly to glow warm and bright. 

“All right, then… Justin?” Jesse asked once their laughter subsided. The warmth remained.

Andrew was about to answer when he felt something soft against his calf. He looked down to see a small calico rubbing against his leg.

“What have we here?” he asked, crouching down to inspect the small cat. It purred loudly when he scratched behind its ears. He looked up, trying not to notice how his face was eye level with Jesse’s crotch, to ask, “Who’s this?”

“That’s Erica Albright. She sometimes likes to help out in the shop.”

“You gave your cat a last name?” Andrew found this absurdly charming.

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck and gave a little embarrassed shrug.

“She was a stray. It seemed like the thing to do.”

“I like it,” Andrew said decisively. If Jesse’s smile was any indication, he had said the right thing. He gave the cat one last scratch saying, “It was a pleasure to meet you Ms. Albright,” before standing back up.

“So… the flowers?” Jesse asked.

“Right. Yes. Well, it’s like this. Justin isn’t allowed to speak for weeks, because of the surgery, to give his throat time to heal. And today is National Scrabble Day, which is a special day for him and his girlfriend, since they play the game together all the time. So he thought it would be nice to send some flowers to do a little speaking for him, since she’s on location, and he can’t really talk on the phone. You know, to let her know he’s thinking of her.

“I told him I knew just the place—a shop where the flowers are more verbose than he could possibly imagine.”

Jesse smiled appreciatively. Andrew tried not to stare at his dimple.

“Here, you’ll enjoy this,” he added, reaching into his pocket to pull out a folded piece of paper. “He even wrote a poem to be included.”

_To Jessica:_

_It’s National Scrabble Day  
And I just wanted to say  
That I think of your smiles  
When I’m choosing my tiles  
The way you balance your rack  
Now that’s bringing sexy back  
I couldn’t love you more  
You’re my triple word score._

_Love, Justin_

Andrew took advantage of the opportunity to study Jesse’s face as he read Justin’s verse. He watched delightedly as his expression went from curious, to horrified, to amused. When Jesse chewed on his bottom lip to bite back his smile, Andrew stared, fascinated.

“It’s easy to see how he became a multi-platinum selling songwriter,” Jesse finally said, deadpan.

“Quite,” Andrew agreed seriously.

-o-

A familiar sight greeted Andrew as the bell to Jesse’s Flowers rung, announcing his arrival—the object of his affection seated on a stool behind the counter, laptop open beside him. His face lit with a smile when he caught sight of Andrew, and Andrew hoped it was a smile for him, personally, and not simply his standard customer smile.

“You’re getting to be a regular.”

“Now that I know how to say it with flowers, I don’t want to say it any other way. Really, I had no idea it was such a complex art.”

“It does have a long tradition and well-documented history.”

“I’m beginning to understand that.”

“What can I help you with today? Another errand for the silenced Mr. Timberlake? Did he give you some Parcheesi poetry to woo his lady love?” Jesse may have placed extra emphasis on the ‘cheesy’.

Andrew tipped his head back and laughed. “Ha. That was a terrible pun.” His reaction and wide smile would argue he thought it was anything but. “No, nothing like that. This one’s actually from me.”

“Delivery?”

“Yes. I’d like to send a nice plant to the animal shelter near my neighborhood, something to brighten up the place.”

“Oh?”

“After I left here the other day, I was thinking about your Erica Albright and how lucky she was to have you. You said she was a stray, right?” Andrew wished for a moment that he had been taken in by the lovely Jesse and allowed to sit on his lap, and be stroked by those capable hands.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I started wondering about all the other animals that weren’t so lucky—no homes, no scratches behind the ears, scrounging for meals. And then later that evening I flipped on the television to watch some Animal Planet, and there was Sarah McLaughlin singing _Arms of an Angel_. You know the song?” 

Andrew hummed a few bars, slightly off-key, until Jesse cut in, smiling, “Yes, I’m familiar with the commercial.”

“Right. Well, I somehow found myself down at the shelter the next afternoon, intending to make a donation, but ending up volunteering half the day in addition and promising to return, schedule permitting.”

Jesse was staring at him with a look on his face Andrew couldn’t decipher.

“Erica Albright inspired you to volunteer at an animal shelter?”

Andrew’s brow furrowed. “In a manner of speaking, yes. Their little furry faces are hard to resist.”

“That they are,” Jesse agreed.

“In any case, I thought it’d be nice to send the regular volunteers a ‘thank you’, especially as this is Pet Owners Independence Day.”

“Is it?”

“That it is.”

“By all means, let’s pick something out,” he said, motioning to the refrigerated cases.

“What about that one,” Andrew asked, pointing to a flowering plant in a nice looking pot.

“You definitely don’t want that one; the leaves are toxic to animals.”

“Oh dear. Not exactly the message I was going for. This is obviously a job for a trained professional.”

“You’re in luck; there happens to be one close by.”

“How fortuitous,” Andrew said, and felt a shiver of delight when he was rewarded with Jesse’s beautiful dimpled smile.

Once the plant was selected and paid for, and the address taken down, Andrew stood at the counter, drumming his fingers nervously, while he worked up his courage.

Taking a deep breath, he let the words tumble out. 

“So, apparently, the point of Pet Owners Independence Day is to let the pets take over and fill in for their owners at their jobs while the owners have a bit of freedom. Do you think Erica Albright would be willing to mind the store while you took a coffee break with me down on the corner?”

Jesse looked up in surprise.

“Oh…well… um…” He seemed flustered.

“If you’re too busy, that’s all right. It was just a thought. I enjoyed our last conversation,” he cut in, disappointed.

“No… it’s…. uh…yeah…” Jesse stammered another moment before taking a breath and closing his mouth, gathering himself.

“Erica has a little trouble managing the cash register, but if you hold on just a moment?” He held up a finger as he walked to the swinging door marked _Employees Only_.

Andrew smiled and nodded eagerly.

He heard Jesse asking someone in the back if they would mind watching the front while he went out for a bit. He assumed the answer was yes when Jesse came back smiling, untying the apron he had on over his clothes.

“Coffee it is,” Jesse said.

-o-

This was it. National Take A Chance Day. He was going to go down to Jesse’s Flowers and ask Jesse on a real date, one where Jesse _knew_ it was a date and not just two friends having coffee.

That’s not to say the last time they had coffee hadn’t gone well. Because it had. Swimmingly, in fact. They had talked about Erica Albright, how Jesse found her in the alley behind his building, a tiny little thing, all dirty and scared. How he set out food for her day after day until she stopped running away every time he opened the back door and finally allowed him to pet her. How he befriended the little calico slowly, gaining her trust until one day, as he turned to go back into the shop, she had followed him inside. She hadn’t left since. 

Andrew had told him how much he wanted a pet, but with his schedule it wouldn’t be fair to the animal.

“We always had cats and dogs growing up. There’s something about a pet that makes a place a home. Do you know what I mean?”

Jesse did.

“I’d love to have one here, but when I’m lucky enough to have a job, sometimes I’m away months at a time.”

The rest of their conversation had flowed smoothly and easily. There was a comfort between them, and he felt as if he could tell Jesse anything. Anything at all.

Except, of course, that he was falling head over heels and wanted to jump his bones.

As he approached the shop, his nerves set in. He felt a small amount of pressure since it was also Lover’s Day, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up too high, afraid he wouldn’t withstand the crash if things didn’t go as planned. But then again, National Zucchini Bread Day was also being celebrated—although he wasn’t sure where—so he supposed they balanced each other out. Andrew was skeptical about some of these holidays listed on the web site, but if they could help him win the charming Jesse, he’d lend his complete support.

The bell rang as he opened the door and he looked eagerly to the counter to find… not Jesse.

“Can I help you?” a pretty red-haired girl with a raspy voice asked.

“I was looking for Jesse. Is he in back?”

“No.” She made a sympathetic face. “He had some meetings today. Wait,” she cocked her head. “You’re the actor. Andrew.”

“Yes, I am.” He approached the girl and held out his hand. “Andrew Garfield. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she said. “Emma Stone.” She held onto his hand, examining his face closely. “I have to say… you’re much cuter without the mullet.”

He pulled away from her grip so he could cover his face with both hands. “Oh no,” he groaned, “That’s a terrible movie. Did you really watch it?”

She laughed. “Jesse and I watched it last night. All the way to the bitter end. And that’s a true testament to your fine acting skills and pretty pretty face.”

Andrew felt a cold spike through his heart, even though her words were teasing and complimentary. What did she mean that she and Jesse watched it last night? _Was_ there a ‘she and Jesse’? He _told_ Carey Jesse might not be gay.

He pulled his hands away from his face and watched Emma closely as he asked, “Do you and Jesse watch movies together often?”

She appeared to be watching him just as closely as she responded. “Every now and then. Especially when there’s an actor he’d like to check out.”

What did she _mean_ ‘check out’, Andrew wondered? He would never understand women.

“Does he… check out actors often?” God, what in the world was he _doing_? He needed to get out of there before he made an even bigger fool of himself.

“Not especially,” Emma responded, still studying him thoughtfully.

“That’s good. That’s good,” Andrew muttered to himself.

“So was there anything I could help you with? Some flowers maybe?”

“What? No, not today, I don’t think, but thank you.”

“You know,” Emma said, “the flower shop has a web site where you can order online. That way you don’t have to drive all the way to the shop. Our customers really enjoy the convenience.”

Andrew frowned. Was she warning him away from Jesse? He felt as if they were having an entirely different conversation under the surface, but he had _no idea_ what she was saying.

“I don’t mind coming down here. And this way I can actually smell the flowers. You can’t get that online.”

“No, no you can’t.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Emma. Can you please let Jesse know I stopped by?”

“Oh, you can just bet I will,” she said, with an emphasis that made Andrew nervous.

What on earth did she _mean_? “Right. Thanks then.”

-o-

“I’m telling you, she was totally checking you out as Jesse’s friend, to see if you were good enough for him.”

“How on earth could you possibly know that?”

“Because I’m a girl.”

“Sometimes I think your kind is an entirely different species.”

Carey climbed on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her head under his chin.

“Darling, you’re completely hopeless.”

“But you love me anyway.”

“Of course I do.”

Andrew gave her a squeeze, hoping she was right. In any case, he was going to take a step back and revert to his previous method of strategically timed flower purchases and coffee invitations. Take A Chance Day obviously wasn’t for everyone.

-o-

“World Penguin Day?”

“Penguins made me think of tuxedos which made me think of formal occasions, and every formal occasion needs flowers, don’t you agree?”

“Indeed.”

-o-

“I thought for sure I’d see you here on Wednesday—Star Wars Day _and_ National Candied Orange Peel Day.”

Someone had obviously been surfing the web. 

“I couldn’t make it, unfortunately. Had a meeting with my agent.”

“Oh? How did that go?”

Andrew made a so-so motion with his hand. “Not sure yet. I’m up for a part that I really really want, but I don’t think I’m going to get it.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“So what’s the occasion today?”

“National Public Gardens Day. I thought you might want to go for a coffee to celebrate.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Jesse said from behind the counter.

“Why’s that?” Andrew asked, disappointed.

“We’re celebrating No Pants Day in the shop today.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

Andrew barked out a laugh, face flushing.

-o-

“Let me guess… You’re here for Iris Day.”

“You would be wrong. After the No Pants surprise, I thought for sure you’d be up for No Socks Day.”

Jesse laughed. Andrew would never get tired of seeing those dimples appear.

“Let me just tell Erica Albright I’m running out for bit.”

-o-

“National Sea Monkey Day? Really?”

“They’re a bowl full of happiness.”

Jesse smiled. 

“And,” Andrew added, “It’s Love A Tree Day as well. Trees made me think of plants which made me think of flowers…” _which made me think of you_ , he finished in his head.

“Andrew,” Jesse started, then stopped what he was going to say. He chewed his lower lip.

“Yes?” Andrew prompted.

Jesse took a deep breath then looked at him with bright blue eyes. Andrew’s knees felt weak.

“You don’t have to keep finding obscure holidays to come visit, you know.”

“What? I’m not—”

The rest of his comment was quelled by Jesse’s knowing look.

“We could just, um, hang out.” Jesse stumbled a bit over the words. “I mean,” he added quickly, “if you wanted to.”

“I’d like that a lot. Of course I want to.”

“You do?”

“I really do.”

Jesse’s smile was breathtaking.

\--o--

Andrew and Jesse soon settled into a routine, if you could call Andrew stopping by the shop at random times on random days—though more days than not—and stealing Jesse away for coffee, or lunch, or a beer after closing, and the occasional dinner, a routine. Erica Albright, it turned out, was amenable to watching the shop at all hours of the day. Andrew suspected Emma had more to do with Jesse’s scheduling flexibility than the calico, but who was he to argue?

Even though Carey insisted Emma was only Jesse’s friend, Andrew couldn’t help but feel him out, just to be sure. How could Carey actually know, after all? The argument, “because I’m a girl,” wasn’t terribly convincing. He chose a time when they were out for a beer, hoping the alcohol would relax his nerves and loosen Jesse’s tongue. Not that he needed any more reasons to be thinking about Jesse’s tongue; he already thought about Jesse’s mouth far more often than was probably healthy.

“I stopped by your shop one afternoon when you weren’t there. I met your Emma.”

Jesse gave a short laugh. “Don’t let her hear you call her that.”

“Oh really?” Andrew liked the direction this conversation was going already.

“She mentioned you stopped by. Said she gave you a little bit of a hard time.”

“Not really.” Jesse shot him a look. “Well, maybe just a little.” Unkind thoughts about the pretty red head started filtering through his mind.

Jesse smiled. “She really liked you.”

Andrew sat up in surprise. “She did?” All unkind thoughts fled his brain immediately.

Jesse laughed at Andrew’s reaction. “She did. She’s an actor too, you know.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. I’m probably going to lose her soon. She’s much too good to be working in my flower shop.”

“That’s too bad. For you, I mean. Not for her, I suppose.”

“I’ll really miss her. It means I’ll have to get used to somebody new, and she’s always so great at dealing with people. She handles most of the bigger events now. I’ve got a few other employees who are pretty good, and I’m sure I can train them to take over for her, but Emma’s the best. She doesn’t take shit from anyone. And the customers all love her. I suppose I’ll have to start dealing with more of them myself again once she’s gone.”

Andrew chose to focus on the business side of the conversation rather than Jesse’s glowing praise of Emma. He could wish a fellow thespian success. He wouldn’t even allow himself to consciously tack on the part where he was especially happy for her success if it meant she would be spending less time with Jesse.

“I would imagine that’s the worst part of a job like yours—dealing with all those customers.”

Jesse looked up, focusing his bright blue eyes on Andrew, a soft smile on his face. Andrew’s stomach swooped. “I don’t know. Sometimes it’s not so bad.”

-o-

“What’s wrong?” Jesse asked when Andrew showed up at the shop one day near closing time. His entire demeanor projected dejection.

“I didn’t get the part,” Andrew answered.

“Oh. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“I need something stronger than coffee. You’re taking me out for drinks, so I can drown my disappointment in copious amounts of alcohol.”

Jesse smiled at his presumption and gave him an awkward, sympathetic pat on his shoulder.

“I can do that.”

“You’re a good friend,” Andrew said in a serious tone.

Jesse looked up, a slightly surprised expression on his face. His cheeks pinked. Andrew smiled at him and gave a small laugh.

“Well, you are.”

Jesse smiled back, looking pleased. “Just give me a few minutes to get everything closed up, and we can go.”

“Can I help?”

“No. Thank you, but it won’t take me long.”

Jesse disappeared in back and Andrew heard low voices. He wandered around the shop aimlessly, reading the tags next to the flowers in the cases, the various items on the walls. Slightly bored, when Jesse didn’t return right away, he wandered behind the counter to where Jesse’s laptop always sat. He expected to see the shop’s online ordering site, but instead, a text document was open on the screen. He leaned over, intrigued, reading a few lines, then reared back in embarrassment when he heard Jesse returning.

“I’m sorry,” he said, flustered when Jesse halted in shock at seeing him behind the counter. “I was just being nosy. I didn’t touch anything, I swear.” He held up his hands as proof.

Jesse recovered quickly. “That’s fine,” he said, moving around Andrew to close the window on the open document and shut the laptop down. His shoulders were tense.

“No, really, I’m so sorry. I usually have much better manners. I promise to stay on this side of the counter from now on.” He jumped around to the customer side in a dramatic fashion, watching in appreciation as the corners of Jesse’s mouth quirked into a small smile.

“It’s fine,” Jesse said. “Really. You’re not just some customer. We’re friends, right?”

Andrew’s wide smile lit the entire room. “Right. Yes. Friends. We certainly are.” And if he had his way about things, they would be much, much more.

-o-

“It’s not that it was even a big part, or even a big film,” Andrew slurred some time later, having followed through on his plans to drown his sorrows. Jesse had been surreptitiously moving a water glass in front of his hand periodically, trying to keep him hydrated. Andrew obliged, taking a large swallow, thinking, even in his inebriated state, how thoughtful the action was. “But the role spoke to me. I just _really_ wanted it.”

Andrew groaned, rubbed his face with his hands, then pushed the bottles out of the way so he could lean down and bang his forehead against the table. After the third bang, he folded his arms and lay his head down, groaning again before letting out a large sigh. “Ugh, I’ll be unemployed forever,” he mumbled into his arms. “Maybe I should just give it all up and get a real job. Are you hiring? I could be one of your drivers. I obviously can’t be trusted with the arrangements, what with almost poisoning cats and pledging eternal love to psychotic pyromaniacs.”

“Andrew—”

“Hmmm?” Andrew opened one eye and turned his head to peer out over his arms. Jesse’s shoulders were shaking in silent laughter.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You’re an incredible actor. Any director would be lucky to have you.”

“Of course you’d say that. You’re playing the role of sympathetic friend to the disappointed loser tonight.”

“Not at all,” Jesse assured him, still smiling. “I’ve seen your work and you’re amazing.”

“You must really be feeling sorry for me if you’re calling that horrible movie with Justin and the mullet amazing. Now I know I’m doomed to failure.”

Jesse laughed and Andrew wasn’t feeling so drunk or disappointed that he couldn’t appreciate a good dimple showing. His misery was worth it if it could elicit that kind of reaction from Jesse.

“I’ve seen more of your work than that.”

Andrew sat up abruptly, his head clearing. “You have?” he asked curiously. “What else have you seen?”

“Um… well…” Jesse fidgeted. “All of it?”

“You did?” Andrew’s mood immediately lifted. He could barely feel his face, but he suspected it was sporting an enormous stupid smile.

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck. “I did.”

“Oh. Well, that’s… that’s… oh.” The feeling was returning to his face and he thought his cheeks might split from the grin he couldn’t contain.

“So you should believe me when I say that you’re incredibly talented. Okay?”

“You’re not just saying that because you’re afraid of my driving, are you?”

-o-

“Whoa, careful there,” Jesse said as he helped Andrew navigate the stairs.

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I can catch a cab,” Andrew slurred.

“I don’t mind. I’d rather you stay here tonight; otherwise, I’d just worry about you getting home safely.”

“I could text you.”

“You’re already here. Whoops. Careful.”

Andrew leaned into Jesse, enjoying the feel of his body pressed against his side.

“You’re a good friend, Jesse.”

“So you’ve said,” Jesse replied drily.

“Ah. Have I been repeating myself? Carey always says I tend to do that when I’m totally pissed.” Jesse ignored his rambling.

“All right, here we go,” Jesse said, leading him to the couch. He helped Andrew sit down and watched with amusement as he tried to kick off his shoes.

Rolling his eyes, Jesse directed, “Stop. Give them here.”

Andrew leaned back on the couch and lifted his feet up, waving one in front of Jesse’s face.

Jesse snorted and grabbed his ankle, then sat on the couch by his feet, pulling them into his lap while he untied the laces. Once he removed Andrew’s shoes he asked, “Can I get you some clothes to sleep in?”

Andrew started unfastening his belt and then his pants, tugging them down his hips. 

“Just help me off with these.”

Jesse hesitated, then rolled his eyes as Andrew twisted on the couch, trying to get his pants down his long legs, laughing when he tumbled off the couch and landed on the floor with a thud. 

“Ouch,” Andrew said.

“Hold still. Give me your feet.”

Andrew raised them obediently and Jesse tugged the hems, pulling Andrew’s jeans off, keeping his eyes averted from the black boxer briefs as they were uncovered.

As Andrew climbed back up on the couch he asked, “Will you still respect me in the morning?”

Jesse snorted. “That implies I respect you right now.”

Andrews collapsed in a pile of gangly limbs and hysterical giggles while Jesse looked on, bemused. “You’re quite funny, Jesse,” he finally choked out.

Jesse gave him an indulgent smile. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

He returned in a few minutes with a glass of water, a couple of Tylenol, and a pillow and blanket tucked under his arm.

“Take these,” he instructed, handing Andrew the glass of water and tablets before tucking the pillow behind his head.

“The bathroom’s right down the hall. First door on the left. Do you think you’ll be sick? I can get something to keep by the couch, if you think you’ll need…”

“No, I’ll be fine, but thanks.”

“Okay. Here’s a blanket if it gets too cold. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks,” Andrew mumbled as he curled up on the couch, tucking a hand under his chin.

“You’re welcome.”

As Jesse started to leave the room, Andrew’s hand shot out and grabbed at his fingers. 

“Jesse?”

“Yes?”

“Did you mean what you said? You really think I’m good? You weren’t just saying that to make me feel better?”

Andrew was already drifting off, so he wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he could swear Jesse’s fingers tightened on his own, his thumb rubbing gently across the top of his hand.

“No, I wasn’t just saying that. You’re incredibly talented. I… I think you’re absolutely amazing.”

Andrew hummed softly as Jesse returned his hand to its spot by his chin. The last thing he heard as he slipped into sleep was Jesse’s soft voice saying, “Sweet dreams, Andrew.”

\--o--

“Carey, you have to help me,” Andrew begged, his voice tinged with desperation. “If we go on like this much longer, I’m afraid I’m going to end up stuck in the friend zone for all eternity.”

“How is that possible? Haven’t you been seeing him almost every night this week?”

“And last week, and the week before, and for ages before that. But nothing’s happened.”

“Nothing’s happened?”

“ _Nothing’s_ happened.”

Ever since Andrew had woken up in Jesse’s flat, hungover and alone, and not wearing any trousers, he had kicked himself that he hadn’t had the presence of mind to at least try and kiss Jesse the previous evening. After all, he’d had the excuse of alcohol, not to mention emotional distress, to fall back on if things had gone terribly wrong.

Of course the thought had crossed his mind the night before—several hundred times, in fact, especially every time Jesse’s full pink lips wrapped themselves around the mouth of his beer bottle. And every time he smiled. And every time he opened his mouth to speak, or looked at Andrew with his gorgeous blue eyes, or just sat there looking all scrumptious and delicious. But Andrew hadn’t wanted their first kiss to be while he was sloppy drunk and emotionally needy. He wanted their first kiss to be special and sweet, and maybe a little bit dirty (or, okay, a lot dirty), and he wanted both of them to be fully aware of what was happening between them. Because, indeed, something would most definitely be happening between them.

Now he was left wondering if he’d ever get to kiss Jesse at all.

They had certainly grown closer to each other. Jesse was no longer a charming bit of mystery with a love of cats and a biting wit. Sometimes Andrew felt he knew Jesse almost as well as he knew himself. He had taken advantage of having Jesse’s flat to himself that first morning, smiling at the glass of water and headache medicine left out for him atop a note written in Jesse’s scratchy handwriting stating that he should come downstairs to the shop when he was awake and they could go grab some coffee, and to make himself at home, and he had left a fresh towel out if he wanted to take a shower, and tempting as it was, he had not hidden his pants and they were folded on the back of the couch. A smile quirked at his lips at that last part.

Surprisingly, Andrew hadn’t felt too bad that morning—a slight headache, a little upset in his stomach. Nothing the pain tablets, coffee and some greasy hangover food wouldn’t cure. He took advantage of Jesse’s offer to use his shower and felt not the slightest bit of guilt poking through his medicine cabinet, sniffing his shampoo once he was under the spray, imagining what Jesse’s soft curls would smell like.

After he was dressed, he nosed around the flat, taking in the shelf after shelf of books, full of an eclectic assortment of titles, from history, to Russian humorists, to classics, to modern thrillers. He perused the artwork on the walls—a collection of old maps in similarly aged wooden frames, several movie posters in more modern presentations, some original paintings and sketches. 

The kitchen was bright and cheerful, with a few dishes in the sink. A mat on the floor held two white bowls, one filled with water and the other with cat food. Noticing the writing on the sides, Andrew leaned down to get a better look. One said, simply, “ _J’acccuse!_ ” and the other was adorned with a quotation by Mark Twain: “Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.” Jesse had never seemed the type to own novelty items, but for some reason, these suited him. Andrew deemed them aptly appropriate for a cat named Erica Albright. 

Taking the famous humorist’s words to heart, Andrew decided to peek into Jesse’s bedroom, a room which he had originally resisted entering. Like the rest of the flat, it was neat and tidy and similarly decorated, with another old map above the bed and more books along one wall. A few framed photographs rested on the dresser alongside an assortment of coins, scraps of paper, and a few paperclips. The bed was covered in a plush blue comforter. Andrew tried not to imagine how the bedding would bring out the color of Jesse’s eyes were he lying there naked. Before he could get carried away with his thoughts, he exited the bedroom and headed down to the shop to thank Jesse for his hospitality. 

The details of the interior of Jesse’s home weren’t the only insights he had gained into the life of the adorable flower shop owner. Over coffee one afternoon he had discovered the most interesting fact about Jesse to date. They had had numerous conversations about books since their very first meeting where their common interest had been established. As they conversed, the discussion somehow moved to the topic of electronic publishing. Andrew was reminded to finally ask about the story he had caught a glimpse of on Jesse’s laptop the day he had been caught behind the counter.

“So that story you had open on your computer that day… What were you reading?”

Jesse blushed, taken off guard. Andrew was intrigued, not to mention charmed by the flush in Jesse’s cheeks. His hands itched to touch the skin and feel the heat beneath his fingertips. 

“What?” Andrew pressed. “Was it porn or something? You’re blushing.”

Jesse laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, ducking his head sheepishly.

“No, it wasn’t porn.”

“What then? Why are you embarrassed? Was it teen paranormal romance? A former boy band tell all?”

“No, nothing like that.” Jesse laughed softly, his face still tinged with color.

“The reality can hardly be worse than my imagination then, can it? C’mon. Fess up. What were you reading?”

“I…uh… I wasn’t exactly reading anything.” 

“You weren’t?” Andrew asked, puzzled.

“No. It was something… something I was writing.”

Andrew’s eyes lit up. “Really? That’s fantastic. I didn’t realize you wrote. Have you had anything published?”

“I’ve had… some success,” Jesse admitted.

“I’d love to read your writing. Will you show me some of it?”

Jesse fidgeted uncomfortably and didn’t answer right away.

Andrew picked up on his reluctance. “Okay, maybe not now, but… sometime? I’d really like to read your work.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jesse capitulated. “Sometime.”

“You promise?”

Jesse smiled, the tenseness leaving his shoulders. “Yes, I promise. At some point, I’d be more than happy for you to read my writing.”

“Well then. Good,” Andrew said, smiling in return.

The interior of the flat, the secret writing career—these things were just facts. Even casual acquaintances could gain such insights, given the right circumstances. But it was the private observations Andrew made through his many hours of studying Jesse’s every expression that made him feel a deep connection, a closeness, with the other man. The way he chewed at the sides of his thumbs when he was nervous. The self-deprecating humor that masked a modesty and shyness Andrew would never have guessed from their initial interactions. The variations in his smiles—soft, gentle ones when he held Erica Albright; mischievous, sly ones when he was putting someone on; the happy, open ones when they laughed together over a shared joke or funny story. These last were by far Andrew’s favorites. 

Carey’s voice cutting in interrupted Andrew’s reminiscing. “Jesus, Andrew. What the hell are you waiting for?”

“I don’t know. I don’t _know_.”

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had opportunity. There was the time he had been walking Jesse back to his flat after a night out for dinner. Jesse had had a little more to drink than usual, and Andrew wanted to make sure he made it safely home. When Jesse stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk, Andrew had grabbed his upper arm to prevent him from falling. Jesse had turned to him with one of his brilliant smiles, saying, “Thanks, Andrew.” His face was so close, the heat of his body warm under Andrew’s hand and all he’d have to do was lean just a few inches… But… no. He’d have felt like he was taking advantage of Jesse’s inebriated state.

Then there was that evening they were relaxing on Jesse’s couch, watching a movie. They were sitting close, in order to share the bowl of popcorn resting on Jesse’s lap. And cliché of all clichés, their fingers brushed against each other in the bowl time and time again, until Andrew was almost sure Jesse was timing his snacking deliberately, especially when he could swear he felt Jesse’s finger slide slowly and caressingly down the side of his hand. He looked over and saw Jesse watching him intently and his heart started racing in his chest. Their eyes were locked and he was trying to gather his courage to wrap his hand around Jesse’s and tug him closer when Erica Albright jumped onto Jesse’s lap, dislodging the popcorn, spilling it everywhere. The moment, of course, was lost.

And then there was the recent afternoon he stopped by the shop just to chat, even though he knew it would be inconvenient timing. He’d been leaning on the counter, in between customers, chatting away about another audition he’d gone on, 99.4% sure he wasn’t going to get the role—he wasn’t really right for the part, to be honest, but his agent still wanted to get his face in front of the casting director. He was feeling just the slightest bit sorry for himself and knew talking to Jesse would cheer him up. Which it did, right away. When Jesse had offered to take a break and have someone watch the front so they could go grab coffee, even though he was obviously too busy, Andrew wanted to leap over the counter and kiss his gorgeous face off. But… he didn’t. Nor did he take Jesse up on his generous offer for coffee, even though his heart was warmed and full of gratitude.

There were a million similar circumstances, each ending with over-thinking, hesitation, missed opportunity.

“I think I just want to make that first kiss perfect so much that I’ve completely cock-blocked myself at every turn,” he continued.

“Screw perfect first kisses. You can make the second kiss perfect. Or the third. Or the fifteenth. But unless you actually _have_ a first kiss, you’re never going to _get_ to a fifteenth, let alone a second.”

“I know. God, I do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I mean, I had my cock down Christy’s throat the very first night—”

“Yes, and that turned out well.”

“Oh, shut up.” Andrew laughed. “I just mean, it’s not that I’m usually shy when it comes to romantic entanglements. But now, it seems that the longer things go on like they have between us, the more paralyzed I become.”

“When are you seeing him next?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Good. Now listen to me, Andrew Garfield.”

“Okay.”

“Are you listening?”

“I’m listening.”

“Tomorrow evening, you are going to _make a move_. Stop thinking, stop worrying. Just do it. Kiss him. Grope him. I don’t care what it is, but your intentions will be clear.”

“But what—”

“Uh uh.”

“But if he—”

“No, no buts.”

“Carey, what—”

“Stop. Stop it right there. No excuses. You asked for my help, and I’m giving it to you. It’s time to man up.”

“Man up? Really, Carey?”

“Yes, really, Garfield. I want you to promise me that you are not ending the evening without making your move. Put your big boy pants on and go for it.”

“Oh, you know I’ll be wearing my big boy pants,” Andrew said, a suggestive leer in his voice.

They were both laughing now. 

“You’re hopeless. I don’t know why I bother.”

“Because you love me.”

“I do, although sometimes I’m not sure why.” She let out a long suffering sigh. 

“My good looks and sparkling personality?”

“Yes, that must be it,” she said dryly. “But you know I do want you to be happy, and not all miserable and mopey, so promise me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay. I’m going to make my move.”

“Brilliant.”

-o-

As Andrew stepped out of the shower, he heard his phone ringing for the third time that day. His agent had been trying to reach him since late yesterday, but he knew the call was simply to give him the news he was already quite aware of: he didn’t get the part. He also knew his agent wouldn’t leave a message, but would keep trying to reach him to tell him in person. It’s not that he would be particularly upset by the news (he had _told_ his agent he wasn’t right for it); it was just that he was trying to psyche himself up for the evening with Jesse, and bad news was still bad news, no matter how expected it might be. He needed to keep his head on straight, maintain a positive attitude, if he was finally going to burst out of the friend zone. He had promised Carey he would make a move, and a move he was definitely going to make. His agent could wait.

When his phone rang twice more during dinner, he finally switched it to vibrate.

“You can take that,” Jesse said. “I don’t mind.”

“No, that’s okay. It’s just my agent.”

“Aren’t those the sorts of calls you should be taking?” 

“Usually, but it this case, he’s just going to tell me I didn’t get that part I knew I wouldn’t get. I’d rather hear it tomorrow. Or better yet, never.” His tone was wry. “Besides,” he added with a smile, “I don’t want it to ruin my night out with you.”

Jesse smiled in return and Andrew wondered, once again, how he had gone so long without kissing this beautiful man.

All evening his body was buzzing with excitement. Conversation flowed easily, as always, and Andrew was certain Jesse was putting off vibes that indicated his advances would not be unwelcome. He paid careful attention to the body language—lots of eye contact, leaning in to talk, friendly smiles. When Jesse invited him over to his place after their meal, Andrew knew they were completely on the same page. Their hands brushed against each other’s as they walked, neither of them moving away, and Andrew thought that if things went well, maybe next time they walked side by side, he’d be holding Jesse’s hand in his.

As they stood outside his door, Jesse fumbled a bit with his keys, hands slightly shaking. Andrew stood close behind him, feeling the heat of his body, staring at the soft curls brushing the back of his neck, the exposed bit of skin behind his ear, longing to lean in and press his mouth against it. He was relieved Jesse seemed to be as nervous as he himself was. Maybe Jesse had been feeling similarly, wanting to move things to the next level, but not sure how, or afraid to ruin the friendship they already had. Andrew would be sure to let Jesse know they could move things to _all_ the levels and he’d still be sticking around; in fact, Jesse would never be rid of him if he had his way.

“Would you like some coffee?” Jesse asked once they were inside. “Or a beer?”

“A beer would be great. Thanks.” He was already jittery and wired; coffee would be a mistake. And a little liquid courage wouldn’t hurt.

Jesse exited the kitchen holding two bottles of beer. He sat next to Andrew on the couch, close, but not touching. His scraped at the label on the bottle, but his fingernails, bitten to the quick, made little headway. Seeming to realize what he was doing, he put the bottle down on the table, folding his hands in his lap.

“Would you… like to watch a movie or something?”

 _Or something_ , Andrew thought, taking a large swallow of his beer, gathering his nerve. He was going to just go for it, like Carey said. 

Andrew took a deep breath, turning to Jesse. “I’d actually like something else,” he blurted before he could chicken out.

“Oh,” Jesse said with a soft release of air, eyes widening.

Andrew’s heart was racing; he was tense all over, palms sweating. It was now or never. A look of recognition passed between them and then they were moving toward each other at the same time, heads tilting.

A jarring buzz from his pocket caused Andrew to jump just as their faces were closing in. He jerked his head back in surprise and felt it connect hard with Jesse’s, who let out a grunt of pain.

He was going to kill his agent. Beyond frustrated, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone and jammed his finger on the talk button. “What? What the fuck is so goddamn important? I already _know_ I didn’t get that part. So couldn’t this fucking wait until tomorrow?”

“No. No, this can’t wait until tomorrow,” his agent bit back, sounding just as frustrated and angry as Andrew. “I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday. I’ve left you countless messages, texts, emails. Where the hell have you been?”

Andrew felt the first stirrings of guilt. It really was bad form to ignore his agent who did a crack job for him. “Sorry, sorry. I’ve been… busy.”

“Well, you’re about to get busier. Now listen up. You know that movie role you wanted, the one that went to the Elliot kid?”

“Yes.”

“He’s been in an accident. He’s okay,” he added before Andrew could ask, “but he’s going to be in traction and there’s no way he can finish the movie. You’ve got the job if you can be in New York Monday morning. I need to let them know tonight or they’re moving on to their next choice. The schedule is tight. They’re obviously going to have to reshoot all his scenes—your scenes now if you want them—so they need you there as soon as possible for wardrobe, and all the rest.”

Andrew was stunned, head spinning. He looked up at Jesse and was taken aback to see him holding a paper towel to his nose, which appeared to be bleeding quite profusely. His eyes widened with alarm.

Jesse saw his expression and held up his hand reassuringly, mouthing “I’m fine.”

“Andrew? Are you still there?”

He shook his head to regain focus. “I’m here. Yes, I’m listening.”

“I’ve emailed the contracts to you, and I’ll need them back as soon as you can. I need to at least give them a verbal tonight, so I’ve got to have your answer right away. I’m sorry you don’t have more time to think it over, but I’ve been _trying_ to reach you.”

“Right. Right. Yes, I know.” Andrew already knew his answer, of course. There was no way he wasn’t taking this role. He’d have to move like crazy to look over the contract, pack, make arrangements for his flat while he was gone, schedule his flight. There was so much to do in less than 24 hours. His eyes fell on Jesse again, still dabbing at his nose—the bleeding seemed to have almost stopped at least, thank God. Maybe it was just as well things had turned out as disastrously as they had. He’d be gone for months, after all, and it was hard enough for committed couples to handle the separation his profession often called for. It was unrealistic to expect Jesse to wait for him, when they hadn’t even managed to have even their first kiss. No, it was probably better this way. When he got back, if Jesse was still single, then maybe they could see where things might go.

“Well, do you want the job?” his agent asked, cutting into his thoughts.

“Yes. Yes, of course I want the job. Provided the contracts hold no real surprises, I’m in. Thank you,” he added with sincerity. “I’m sorry I jumped on you when you called. And I apologize for being out of pocket. It won’t happen again.”

They wrapped up their conversation with his agent promising to have his assistant get in touch with details and flight information, then Andrew ended the call.

His mind whirring with all he’d have to do, he looked at Jesse helplessly, trying not to think about what ifs.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment then Andrew said, “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“I understand.”

“Is your nose okay?”

“It will be fine.”

Jesse walked him to the door.

They both hesitated, the earlier tension returning, and Andrew’s eyes flickered to Jesse’s mouth for a second, his heart full of want and regret. He wanted so much to crush Jesse to him and press his lips to his, taste the inside of his mouth. But it wouldn’t be fair. “I’ll call you later and fill you in on the details,” he promised.

Jesse nodded.

“Good luck,” he said softly as Andrew was leaving. Andrew turned to look one last time at that gorgeous face, so beloved and dear, trying not to think about how sad Jesse looked.

\--o--

It was days before Andrew was able to speak to Jesse. After hanging up the phone with his agent, his life became an immediate whirlwind of decisions, plans, arrangements. He called Carey as soon as he got home, filling her in on the disastrous non-kiss (“Only you could manage to bloody the man’s nose,” she said wryly, but not without sympathy.), enlisting her help while he was out of town. She offered to keep an eye on his flat and check his messages and forward his mail, so that was one huge worry taken care of. Then it was contract reviewing, packing, flurries of calls with his agent, his agent’s assistant, and contacts in New York—about the script delivery, travel arrangements, accommodations once he landed, production scheduling. He barely had time to breathe.

It wasn’t until he was sitting on the plane waiting for his flight to take off that he had even a moment to think about what had happened with Jesse. He was exhausted from having been up most of the night in a mad panic and didn’t really think he could handle a conversation of any substance, especially when Jesse’s voice would only remind him what he was leaving behind. He needed to be thinking about the job he was starting tomorrow, not dwelling on his absolute failure as a romantic pursuer. Instead, he simply sent a text:

_Last min film role. On way 2 NY. Will call when settled._

Then he turned off his phone and got out his script, wanting to review it before trying to grab some sleep on the flight.

Once he landed, he was thrust into the same crazy pace he had just left, getting settled at the hotel, grabbing a late dinner, then stealing a few hours sleep before a car picked him up at 5AM. He smiled when he noted the text Jesse had sent back sometime during his flight.

_Congrats. Can’t wait to hear all about it._

A long day turned into a long evening as the production scrambled to make up time lost by the unexpected change in casting. When Andrew got back to the hotel, it was far too late to make a phone call, even with the three hour time difference to California. So that he didn’t risk waking Jesse, he called the shop instead of Jesse’s cell and left a tired, rambling message on the business’ voice mail, filling Jesse in on the role and letting him know he’d probably be out of touch for a while, if the day’s experience was anything to go by. His prediction proved all too accurate.

Jesse, however, continued to send periodic texts, and in quiet moments Andrew looked at them more times than he would ever admit to anyone.

_Hope all is going well in NY._

_Having coffee with Emma. She says hi._

_Erica Albright sends her regards._

_Hope the filming is going well._

Even though his role was physically demanding and required long hours on set and little for much else, Andrew had, at least, managed to shoot off a few texts himself now and then.

_Crazy busy. Will call soon to ctch up._

_Filming going well. Tell Emma and Erica hello._

There had also been one voice mail Andrew didn’t pick up until two days after it had been left, Jesse’s hesitant voice saying hello, he just wanted to say hi, hoped everything was going well, asking Andrew to maybe give him a call if he got a break, he’d love to hear how things were going.

He left another one back, again late at night on the shop’s voice mail, apologizing for only just now picking up the message, telling Jesse he hoped to have a break soon and he would try and call again. Andrew hesitated before hanging up, wanting to tell Jesse how much he missed him, but held back, thinking it wasn’t the time, especially while he was exhausted and emotionally vulnerable. He didn’t want to say too little, but he didn’t want to say too much either, especially as they hadn’t yet had a chance to even discuss what had happened—or hadn’t happened—the night before he left. So he just said a quiet goodnight and hung up the phone, deciding those sorts of sentiments would be better talked about in person. Then he replayed Jesse’s message again, listening to it over and over until he fell asleep. 

Finally, once the production had gotten somewhat back on schedule, Andrew had his first day with the afternoon free. He immediately found a private spot to put in a call to Jesse.

“Hi, it’s Andrew,” he said when Jesse answered the phone. His heart was pounding and he was unaccountably nervous.

“Hi,” Jesse said, voice surprised. “You called. It’s good to… hi. How is the movie going?”

“It’s great. Busy, but… yeah… great.”

“That’s good. Good to hear.”

“Yeah.”

The line was quiet, neither of them speaking for a moment. As the silence lengthened, becoming awkward, Andrew searched for something to say.

“How’s your nose?” he asked, then cringed, not meaning to remind Jesse of his pitiful attempts at seduction and so not the way he intended to introduce the topic for discussion.

“It’s fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, really. It was nothing.”

“That’s good.”

Another awkward silence grew between them. Andrew wasn’t sure how to talk about what had happened, having almost convinced himself it was better they parted no more than friends, but now that he had brought it up, he felt he needed to say something.

“Look,” he began. “About that—”

“Hey, Andrew?” Jesse cut in.

“Yeah?”

“I hate to do this, since I know you’ve been busy and probably don’t have much time, but it’s picking up here at the shop and I’m going to have to go.”

“Oh,” Andrew said, taken slightly aback. “Yeah… sure. I understand. I’ll try again in a few days?”

“Yeah, that sounds great. It was good to hear from you. Glad things are going so well.”

“Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon?”

“Great, goodbye.” 

“Goodbye.” And then Jesse was gone and Andrew was left staring at his phone in confusion, wondering what had just happened. That was not at all how he had expected their conversation to go.

Andrew tried Jesse several times more over the next few days, but never reached him in person. He left brief voice mails initially, but stopped leaving messages after the first couple of times. The texting continued, but though each new one made Andrew smile, he couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied at the limited interaction.

When Andrew realized he hadn’t heard anything from Jesse in almost a week, he checked back over the texts and noticed they had come further and further apart. When he realized he hadn’t received a response to the last three texts he had sent, he felt a sinking in his stomach and hoped his chances weren’t ruined completely. After the epic failure of the non-kiss at Jesse’s flat, Andrew had told himself it was for the best things hadn’t gone any further between them. But the longer he was away, the more time that spanned between contact with Jesse, the more Andrew realized how much he actually missed him. He missed him desperately—his sly humor, his comfortable presence, his beautiful smile. As he continued to re-play that one lone phone message over and over, just to hear Jesse’s voice, Andrew was forced to admit his feelings for Jesse were deeper and stronger than he had allowed himself to think about.

Well, he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He could feel Jesse pulling further away, but that wasn’t going to stop him. There was something between the two of them; he was sure of it. Something special and worth fighting for. When he got home, he was going to take the first opportunity he got to plant a big fat kiss on Jesse’s gorgeous face and tell him how he felt. He had been stupid to not say anything before he left, stupid to not try harder to make Jesse his. Separations were always going to be a part of his career. His job may take him away again in the future, but the thought of having someone like Jesse waiting for him at home was enough to fill him with happiness. With a determined heart, he pulled out his phone and sent another text.

_Wrapping in 2 wks. Will cu soon._

He wanted to say a lot more, but he had waited this long; he could wait two more weeks and tell Jesse in person.

-o-

Andrew backed out of the shop on autopilot, letting the door click shut softly behind him, walking rapidly down the block, putting as much distance as possible between himself and what he had just seen. His mind was a blank. He couldn’t think; he was unable to process anything, anything at all. That had not just happened. It couldn’t have.

He needed Carey.

He dialed her number automatically as he walked, noting curiously, as if he were watching someone else’s actions, that his hands were shaking.

“That was quick,” Carey said when she picked up. “How did it go?”

He tried to answer, but found his throat had locked up. He swallowed, trying to loosen it, but couldn’t get any words out. He stopped, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eyes, trying to get a grip.

“Carey?” His voice was small, and he heard it crack, but he was too upset to be embarrassed.

“Shit. Where are you?”

“I don’t know. Walking.”

“Stay put. I’m coming to get you.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t hang up.”

“Carey,” he practically whimpered, voice pleading. He couldn’t talk about it yet. He just couldn’t.

“You don’t have to say anything, all right? I just want to be able to find you.” He could hear the sound of a car door shutting in the background and then an engine starting.

True to her word, she didn’t expect him to talk. She kept up a running commentary about how far she was, chatting away about mutual friends, odd items she had read recently in the news, the movie she had seen over the weekend. Luckily, traffic wasn’t too horrible at that time of day, and it wasn’t long before she pulled up to the curb after spying him, sitting dejectedly against a wall, knees bent, head tipped back, eyes closed, phone cradled to his ear.

“Darling, you look pathetic,” she said with sympathy.

He opened his eyes and looked around, spying her nearby, then he unfolded his long limbs and made his way to the car, sliding in to the passenger seat. “Thanks,” he said, a pained smile on his face.

“Where to?” she asked. “My place, yours, or directly to the pub?”

He gave a weak laugh. 

“Yours, if that’s okay.” He couldn’t go back to his flat right now. He’d only be reminded of how giddy and hopeful he had been just hours before. And he certainly wasn’t fit to be out in public. Chances are he’d be weeping embarrassingly before the day was over and absolutely no one needed to see that. He was sure to be handing over future blackmail material, but he could trust Carey to hold off on any mockery until he was adequately recovered from his heartbreak. He was fairly certain that day would never actually come.

Once settled back at her flat with a cup of tea, he knew he’d have to fill her in on the disaster that was supposed to have been his grand declaration and happily ever after.

“Well?” she asked. “What happened?”

He cringed as his mind replayed the scene he had walked in on. He had been so excited, so happy, finally going to see Jesse after all that time apart. He had taken an extra day or two after he had gotten home to catch up on his sleep, meet with his agent to deal with remaining paperwork, and to plan out exactly what he wanted to say. He had worked out detailed responses to every objection he thought Jesse might come up with until he was confident Jesse would be convinced they were meant to be together and unable to resist.

And then he had opened the door to the flower shop to find Jesse kissing someone else.

“He’s seeing someone.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. But it can’t be that serious, can it? You weren’t out of town for _that_ long, and you said it was only in the last few weeks he started pulling away, right?”

“It looked pretty serious.”

“Looked? Did you meet who he was seeing?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well, what happened then? What did Jesse say?”

“I didn’t actually speak to him.”

“Andrew, what exactly went on today?”

“I walked in on him kissing someone.”

“Oh.” She made a face. “Awkward.”

“No, awful.”

Carey patted his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make light. What happened then?”

“Then I left.”

“And he didn’t come after you to explain?”

“I’m quite sure he didn’t see me. He was sort of busy at the time.”

“Andrew.” She shot him an admonishing look. “How could you possibly know he doesn’t want to see you? Maybe you completely misinterpreted the situation.”

“I know I didn’t.” Andrew could still picture them, as clearly as if they were standing in front of him right now. Jesse’s hands were on the other man’s hips, loose and comfortable. The man, taller than Jesse and dark haired, was holding Jesse’s face between his hands and speaking quietly to him. Then he had leaned down toward Jesse’s upturned face and kissed him on the lips, softly and sweetly. When he pulled back, Jesse’s face wore a smile, and his arms had reached around the man’s waist to pull him closer. The moment was so intimate and tender, Andrew recoiled almost reflexively, feeling like the worst kind of intruder. It hadn’t been like a first kiss, or a getting to know you kiss, or a playful flirty kiss; the kiss had been one of familiarity, of obvious deep affection.

Andrew felt as if he couldn’t breathe, wanting that moment for his own. Wanting that to be him in Jesse’s arms, his mouth on Jesse’s lips. That should be him. It was supposed to be him. He was jealous, and angry, and heartbroken, and bewildered. He had left his flat full of nervous energy, excited and elated, convinced today would be the day everything changed for them. And it had, but not in the way he had expected. The worst part was he knew it was his own fault. He had fucked everything up, done everything wrong. And he had lost Jesse because of it. Or, not even lost him, because he never managed to get him in the first place. Someone else had slipped right in and stolen Jesse’s heart while Andrew had been dicking around, trying so hard not to screw everything up that there wasn’t anything there to screw up to begin with.

“But how can you know? Unless you talk to him—”

“Carey,” Andrew interrupted. “I _know_. I know what I saw.” When Carey looked like she was going to continue to argue the point, he added, “I screwed up. I’m too late. I may have been monumentally stupid about everything up until now, but of this I am sure. I had my chance and I blew it.”

Carey opened her mouth to speak again and Andrew cut her off, saying, “If you make a sex joke right now I may never forgive you. And I might actually cry.”

She snorted, giving him a sympathetic look, and opened her arms. “Come here,” she said. Hugging him tightly she said, “Tea isn’t really going to cut it, is it? Shall we get spectacularly drunk?”

Andrew nodded against her shoulder and gave a little laugh. If it sounded suspiciously like a sob, Carey would never tell.

\--o--

Life without Jesse was, unsurprisingly, difficult to adjust to. Without a job lined up, Andrew had a lot of free time on his hands, time which before he would have spent bugging Jesse at his store, hanging out at the coffee shop down the street, watching movies at his flat. Jesse had called several times, but Andrew had let the calls go to voice mail, not trusting himself to speak. Jesse’s own voice was hesitant, hoping he had gotten settled back home okay, wondering when he’d have time to go grab some coffee, wanting to hear all about New York. And, he added, sounding even more uncertain, hoping they could talk.

That was a conversation Andrew could go forever without having, so he took the coward’s way out, texting a response, feigning first a bad cold, then a busy schedule. He knew he’d have to face Jesse eventually, but he didn’t think he could see him right now without falling apart. Then he begged his agent to find him some work, anything so that he wasn’t spinning his wheels and driving himself crazy, missing Jesse so much it hurt.

A week hadn’t passed before his agent rang up.

“Are you sitting down?” he asked. “I don’t know who you managed to impress, but it was someone important. David Fincher wants you for his new movie. He’s got a script by an up-and-coming talent that was apparently tailored with you specifically in mind. David Fincher, Andrew. This could be a career making movie.”

Heartbroken though he might be, Andrew had always been serious about acting. He knew what an opportunity this was. For the first time since he had seen Jesse kissing another man, he felt excited about something. Truly excited. Maybe life could go on, after all.

“That’s fantastic. Just let me know when and where for the audition and I’ll be ready.”

“Oh no. You don’t understand. There’s no audition. The part’s yours if you want it. Well, as long as Fincher’s happy with the table read he’s scheduled. But as long as you don’t screw that up, you’re in.”

“Wow.” Andrew was stunned. He knew how astronomical the odds were of something like this falling into his lap. It was every hopeful in Hollywood’s dream. “Wow,” he repeated. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I know.” His agent’s laugh was giddy. “Congratulations, kid. You done good.”

“Thanks. Just… thanks.”

“I’ve got a package being couriered over as we speak. Contracts, tentative schedule, copy of the script.”

“I can’t wait to read it. Who’s the writer?” Andrew didn’t even really care what the movie was about. If David Fincher was involved, it was bound to be excellent.

“Eisenstein, Einstein? Something like that. He’s done some television and some script doctoring for a few heavies in the past couple of years—Scorsese, Eastwood, some other big names. He’s pretty well known in writing circles, from what I understand, plus he wrote a short a few years back that got an Oscar nod. He and Fincher have been working on putting this project together for a while now.”

“Sounds fantastic. I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. This is… yeah… a dream.”

“You deserve it. And, I am getting paid, after all.”

They both laughed and spent a few more minutes sharing Andrew’s good fortune. His agent finally said he should let him go; he was sure he’d want to make some calls to let people know the news.

When Andrew hung up, he immediately called his family, then some friends, Carey among the first, of course. They were all thrilled for him. The one person he wished he could call was Jesse. Jesse had always had faith in him, and Andrew knew he’d be happy for him, even if things hadn’t turned out the way he had hoped between them.

Feeling sentimental, he caved to the impulse and shot off a text.

_Just landed a big role. Very excited._

Almost immediately, he received a response back.

_That’s great! Coffee? Tell me all about it?_

Although he was glad he had contacted Jesse, he didn’t think he was up for seeing him in person yet.

_Wish I could but very busy rt now._

Maybe after his heartache eased, they could resume some of their old companionship. He had missed Jesse so much. More than anything he longed to drive right over and see those gorgeous blue eyes, watch his beautiful face crease into a dimpled smile. He knew he couldn’t handle it today, but given time... The thought of Jesse being out of his life forever was too harsh to bear. He’d rather have his friendship than nothing at all.

He pulled his phone back out and sent off another text:

_When I know schedule better, will call._

His phone beeped again signaling a new text. He smiled when he saw what Jesse had written, a pang in his chest, sharp and bittersweet.

_I’d like that a lot._

He was lost in thought when a new text came in:

_Miss seeing you._

A lump formed in his throat as he read the words. He knew the feeling.

-o-

Andrew stopped in shock as he walked through the door for the table read.

“Emma?”

She looked up and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“I should have known.”

He was completely surprised. When he asked who else had been cast, he was told the female lead was still up in the air. They were considering a few actors who were relative unknowns and wanted to gauge their chemistry during the table read before making a final decision. He hadn’t inquired further, knowing how much could change and figuring he’d wait until he had an actual name. Now he wished he had, so he could have prepared himself to face her.

Andrew took the seat next to her, and turned, about to make some small talk, but stopped at her scowl.

“What?” he asked, unnerved by her harsh stare.

“What?” she echoed in disbelief. “What?” she repeated. Her voice was incredulous.

“Yes, what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

She picked up her script from the table, eyes blazing, and started hitting him over the head with it.

“What were you thinking? How could you do that to him?”

“Ow! Stop it!” He held up his arm to ward off her blows. “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? You’ve been home for weeks and you haven’t even stopped by to see him.”

He didn’t have to ask who she meant, although he would have thought the reason was obvious.

“Well, he’s seeing someone else. You’ll pardon me if I needed a little time to get over him.”

She stopped the assault and gave him another dark scowl. “What are you talking about? He’s not seeing anyone.”

“Yes, he is.”

“No,” she said slower, as if she were speaking to a simpleton, “he’s not.”

“Yes, he is,” he said back, mimicking her tone. “I saw them.”

“You saw shit,” she sneered. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. He’s crazy about you and you broke his heart. You,” she paused dramatically, “are an asshole.”

“Hey,” he protested.

Their conversation was interrupted by David Fincher breezing into the room.

“Ah, good. You’ve met. Emma… Andrew. Andrew… Emma.”

They both reined in whatever else they had to say while their director-to-be filled them in on the project, told them how happy he was to have them on board, and gave them a run down on how he expected the day to go.

“Now you both were hand-picked for this project and this is largely a formality. I’ve seen all your work, and my partner was really pushing for you both. So as long as we all feel we can work together for the long haul, we’ll be in business.”

Andrew looked at Emma out of the corner of his eye, hoping she wasn’t going to let the earlier tension affect their work. She was sliding a look at him as well and their eyes met in understanding. Whatever else was happening, they were both professionals; neither of them was going to fuck up this opportunity. They chatted amicably with David while the rest of the cast trickled in.

Luckily, the early scenes had their characters pitted in an antagonistic relationship. The dialog sparked and crackled between the two of them. David seemed delighted with how things were going.

“Your chemistry is great. If you were at all nervous about your parts, you can stop. You’re naturals together.”

Then he suggested a break for lunch, meeting back in an hour to read through the last half of the script.

Before Andrew could slip away, Emma had grabbed him by the elbow and was tugging him out of the room.

“You’re coming with me,” she said.

He jerked back his arm. “Fine.”

They found a sandwich shop down the street and sat at a table in the corner after their order was ready.

Andrew broke the silence. “So you said he wasn’t seeing anyone. Did they break up?” He had done his best to not think about what she had said while they were at the read, but he couldn’t help the surge of hope he felt.

“No,” she said, curling her lip.

His heart sunk with disappointment. “Oh.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Because there was nothing _to_ break up. I told you; he’s not seeing anyone. For whatever reason, he’s still hung up on you.” Her tone made it clear what she thought about that.

“But, he was _kissing_ that guy. I saw them.”

“What guy?”

“The guy at the shop. I stopped by when I got back and they were...” he paused, clearing his throat to stop his voice from breaking, “they were kissing.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Neither do you,” he said churlishly. His heart was still battered and bruised. He didn’t need Emma making him feel even worse.

“Ha, ha.” Her response was automatic, almost absentminded. She looked lost in thought. “What did he look like?” she asked after a moment.

“Emma?” She looked up. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”

She must have seen something in his face. Her attitude softened. “Just humor me for a minute. I think this may all be just a big misunderstanding.”

At his skeptical look, she said, “No, really. So tell me, what did the guy look like?”

“I don’t know.” He was petulant, resentful she was making him re-live his worst moment. “Like a regular guy. He was a little taller than Jesse, short dark hair. Average build.”

As he spoke, Emma’s expression changed and she started nodding in understanding. “Justin. It had to have been.”

“Justin? His friend in New York?” Andrew had heard Jesse talk about him many times before, especially when Justin Timberlake’s name had come up in conversation.

“Yes, but he was in town recently, and it’d be just like him.”

“To kiss him on the lips?”

“Yes, he’s very hands-y.”

“And they’re not dating?” he asked, afraid to hope.

“God, no. They’ve known each other for forever. They’re like brothers.”

“Brothers who kiss each other on the mouth.”

Emma rolled her eyes again. “I’m telling you, it had to be Justin. Jesse’s been pining for you since you left for New York. You’re both pathetic, if you ask me.”

“Well, no one did.”

She curled her lip in a now familiar sneer. “Obviously, you should have. He’s convinced you’re straight and having a gay freak out after he almost kissed you. You’re convinced he’s dating his brother. Pathetic.”

“Justin’s not his brother.”

“Whatever.” She waved her hand dismissively. “The fact remains that you’re both hopeless. Completely hopeless. I’m amazed either of you ever manages to get laid.”

“Hey!”

“Deny it all you want, but—”

“Wait,” Andrew interrupted, “after Jesse almost kissed me? I was the one who tried to kiss him.”

“Pathetic,” Emma whispered into the air as an aside. “Yes, and then you raced off to New York and he barely heard from you again.”

“I was busy!”

“He was convinced you were avoiding him and just biding your time until you could give the ‘I just want to be friends’ speech.”

“No! I don’t want to be friends!”

“God,” she huffed in exasperation.

“I mean, of course I want to be friends. But I want to be more than that. You really think that was Justin? You think I have a chance?”

“Jesus, Andrew. How much more proof do you need that the boy’s madly in love with you? He wrote this entire part specifically for you. If that doesn’t give you an indication about his feelings, I don’t know what’s going to.”

“What?” His confusion was apparent.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. “Did you even look at your script?”

“Of course I did.”

“Did you read the front page? You know, the part that said, ‘by J.A. Eisenberg’?”

“What?” He dug into his backpack and pulled out his copy, unfurling it from where the pages were curled around, stuck open at his first scene. He had been so excited to receive it, he had dove right in reading and never even looked at the cover. As he spread it flat on the table, he saw the words written in small black ink, right at the bottom, just as she had said. He ran his fingers over the print, whispering, “Jesse.”

To Emma he said, “I’m so fucking stupid.” 

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “You’ll hear no argument from me.”

-o-

Andrew took a deep breath then pushed open the door to Jesse’s Flowers. His hands were sweating and his heart was racing, but there was no going back now. He had never been more determined about anything in his life. Jesse looked up as he entered the store and Andrew could see the shock register on his face. Then his bright blue eyes lit up and his face broke into a beautiful smile.

“Andrew,” he said, “it’s good to see you.”

Andrew couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jesse’s face. “It’s good to see you too,” he said, feeling like he had just uttered the biggest understatement ever made.

“I’d like to order some flowers,” he said next, plunging on before he lost his nerve. His stomach flipped uncontrollably, especially when he saw the smile on Jesse’s face falter just a bit.

“Of course,” Jesse replied smoothly, a professional mask stealing over his face. “That’s what we’re here for.”

Andrew walked to the counter and slipped a piece of paper toward Jesse. “I’d like them sent to this address.”

Jesse looked at the paper, taking a moment to register that the shop’s own address was written on it. Andrew could tell the second it sunk in and grinned as he saw the corners of Jesse’s mouth quirk up. Jesse looked at Andrew, a brilliant smile back on his face.

“Would you like help picking out an arrangement or did you have something specific in mind?” he asked.

“I know exactly what I want,” Andrew said.

“You do, do you?” Jesse asked, coming out from behind the counter.

“I do.” They couldn’t keep their eyes off each other.

“What do you want, Andrew?” Jesse asked in a breathless voice. 

Andrew was close enough to feel the heat from his skin. He stared at Jesse’s mouth, those lush pink lips. He licked his own lips as he tried to focus. Then he shook his head to clear it and reached into his pocket to pull out another piece of paper. “I have a list,” he said.

“Of course you do,” Jesse said with a small fond laugh.

“Can I start with some hyacinth?” he asked, hoping Jesse would understand.

And of course he did. “I don’t think your arrangement needs hyacinth, but if you insist, I’m sure it would be accepted.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

Andrew smiled. “Then how about some bell flowers.”

Jesse smiled back. “You’re welcome. But you deserve it, truly. I told you you were talented.”

“Still. Thank you, Jesse. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“I don’t know. I think you’re doing okay so far.”

“I can do better.”

Jesse huffed out a laugh. “You can?”

“Yes. I also need some pink camellia.”

Jesse’s smile turned wistful. “I missed you too,” he admitted softly. “So very much.”

Andrew swallowed down a lump in his throat. He nodded, too overcome to speak. The words on his paper were blurring as he blinked back moisture from his eyes. He squinted, trying to read the next item from the list.

“Some… begonia, please?”

Jesse’s face scrunched up and he shook his head in mock sadness. “And you were doing so well.”

“Shit.” Andrew laughed, glad for the return of a little levity. “What did I just throw into the mix? I didn’t try to poison you, did I, like those poor cats from the shelter?”

“No, but you did just tell me to beware.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Obviously, that’s a mistake.”

“Obviously?” Jesse asked with a smile.

“Yes, obviously. The last thing I want to do is warn you away. You do know this whole thing ends with a perfect red rose, don’t you?”

“I think you mean it starts with a perfect red rose.”

“Yes, that. I suppose that’s what I can expect, falling in love with a writer. You’re not going to be correcting my grammar when I’m babbling incoherently during the throes of passion, are you?”

“I’m not sure,” Jesse said with a cheeky smile. “Let’s find out.”

So Andrew did the only thing he could possibly do when presented with a challenge like that: he leaned over and kissed Jesse’s beautiful lips. 

It was perfect.

And then Jesse’s tongue was licking at the seam of his lips and he was humming into his mouth. Heat seared through Andrew and he opened his mouth to Jesse, moaning at the hot slide of tongues, overwhelmed that this moment was finally, _finally_ here. Then they were pressing close to each other, hands desperate and grabbing, pulling closer, even closer. Andrew felt the tug of his shirt being freed from the waistband of his jeans, fingers sliding underneath, hand hot on his skin. He whimpered, grinding his hips into Jesse, biting down on his lip, wanting more. He needed _more_.

His hands roved down Jesse’s back and over the curve of his ass, pulling him even tighter against him, letting Jesse feel the effect he was having on him. “Can Erica mind the store?” he panted against Jesse’s lips.

“Closing early today,” Jesse panted back, moving toward the front door, dragging Andrew with him, kissing him all the while. He gave a breathless laugh as Andrew backed him against the door, pinning him with his body, mouth hungry on his neck, biting and sucking up to his ear. Jesse’s hand fumbled for the latch, trying to flip the deadbolt, but was made clumsy by the distraction of Andrew’s mouth on his skin. He cried out, tilting his head back when Andrew’s hand reached between them, squeezing the hardness between his legs. “Jesse,” Andrew breathed in his ear. “God, Jesse.”

Jesse’s hips bucked into Andrew’s hand then he was pushing Andrew away, hands against his shoulders. Andrew drew back, face flushed, eyes locked on Jesse’s mouth, mesmerized by his lips, full and kiss swollen. “Wait a second,” Jesse panted, chest heaving. Andrew watched as Jesse turned to the door, locking it in one quick motion, then flipping the sign hanging against the window to ‘closed’.

“Okay,” he said with a brilliant smile and then Andrew was on him again, ravaging his mouth, tongue tangling and exploring deep, as if he could never get enough of his taste. Jesse’s hands were under his shirt again, thumbs sliding over the muscles of his abdomen, feeling Andrew twitch in response. Then he was pushing the fabric up even more, head moving down to lick at his chest. It was Andrew’s turn to cry out as Jesse’s mouth latched around one of his nipples, wringing a response by more sucking and the scraping of his teeth. Then Jesse mouthed down his side, spreading open mouthed kisses over his skin, while his hand dipped below Andrew’s waistband, running his fingers through the soft trail of hair leading down.

He pulled back to see Andrew staring at him with desire plain on his face, mouth open, pupils blown wide. “Upstairs,” Jesse said and Andrew nodded in response, before both of them raced for the door separating the shop from Jesse’s flat, laughing as Jesse grabbed Andrew’s wrist, pulling him up the stairs. Jesse fumbled again with the lock, trying to get the door open while Andrew pressed up against his back, whispering dirty things in his ear.

Once inside, Jesse grabbed his wrist again dragging Andrew straight to the bedroom. He pushed him backwards on the bed then immediately straddled his hips, leaning over to give him a filthy kiss while grinding their erections together. Andrew’s head spun from the sensation and he bucked up before flipping them over, spreading Jesse’s legs with his knees and grinding back down.

“I want to fuck you,” he panted in Jesse’s ear before sucking along his jaw, all tongue and teeth, hot and wet. Jesse’s answering groan shot another pulse of desire through him and he shivered at the feel of Jesse’s hand scrabbling for his skin under his shirt, his legs lifting to wrap themselves around Andrew’s waist.

“Yes, God, yes,” Jesse moaned, his entire body trembling with desire. Andrew slipped his arms under Jesse’s shoulders than surged backward onto his knees, pulling Jesse with him so he was sitting straddling his lap. He ripped Jesse’s shirt over his head, then pulled his own off, biting at the join of his neck while scrambling to unfasten his pants. Jesse’s hands joined his and they worked his jeans open, pushing them down his hips as far as they would go. Andrew’s hand wrapped hot and hard around his dick, thumb sliding across the wet tip. He caught Jesse’s keening cry with his lips, and plunged his tongue back in his mouth while giving a few firm strokes. Jesse’s fingers dug into his shoulders, body taut, still shuddering.

Andrew pushed him back down on the bed, pulling his jeans the rest of the way off. Then he shucked his own before climbing back between Jesse’s legs, shoving them apart with his hands and leaning over to take his cock deep into his mouth.

Jesse’s sharp cry was the best sound he had ever heard. He reached up a hand to Jesse’s face and nudged at his lips with his fingers, feeling another surge of lust when Jesse’s mouth immediately opened, sucking his index and middle finger in, using his tongue to get them sloppy and wet.

Then he pulled his fingers free and brought them between Jesse’s legs, circling at his hole. He pushed one in as his tongue circled the head of Jesse cock, teasing under the ridge. Andrew took Jesse deep again, bobbing and sliding his mouth over his cock, hot and wet, tongue sucking and sliding, slipping his finger further in. Jesse’s head thrashed back and forth and his hands reached for Andrew head, tangling his fingers helplessly in his hair, moaning and opening his legs wider. Andrew responded to the blatant invitation by sucking him harder and sliding his finger in and out, pressing the second at his opening. 

He pulled away for a second to ask, “Lube?” and Jesse nodded, leaning over to open the drawer at his bedside table. He ripped a condom from a strip and tossed it to Andrew with the bottle of lube, then he watched with heated eyes while propped up on his elbows as Andrew squirted some on his fingers and reached back between his legs. Jesse fell back down on the bed and opened his legs wide again, pushing against Andrew’s fingers.

Andrew chuckled at his impatience and didn’t waste any time getting back to where they had left off.

Andrew watched in awe as Jesse fell apart under him, moaning incoherently as his fingers pressed inside him. He was so tight and hot, his dick rigid and pulsing against Andrew’s tongue, the salty taste of his precome flavoring his mouth. He sucked and licked, pushing his fingers deeper, loving the way Jesse opened for him, desperate and wanting, pressing back down against his hand. He had never been more beautiful.

“Andrew,” Jesse begged, voice cracking. “God, I need you… need you…”

Andrew slipped his fingers out and pulled off Jesse’s cock, loving the small whine that left Jesse lips. He made quick work of putting on the condom and slicking himself up, then he was positioning himself between Jesse’s legs, lifting his thighs over his arms, and pushing in slow and deep in one long thrust. Jesse’s eyes stayed trained on his, dark and wide, eyelids fluttering. He felt incredible. So fucking incredible.

Andrew leaned over, face close, arms and back straining against the urge to push. 

“Okay?” he asked, staring into Jesse’s beautiful blue eyes.

Jesse nodded yes.

“I don’t know if I can go slow,” Andrew choked out.

“Then don’t,” Jesse whispered, pushing his hips up and squeezing Andrew’s length.

A ragged cry burst from Andrew’s lips and he was pounding into Jesse, slamming into him hard and deep. Jesse met him thrust for thrust, dick bouncing on his stomach, smearing streaks of precome against his skin.

Andrew watched as Jesse reached up to pull himself off, his hand sliding over his cock, moving faster and faster until his entire body went taut, head thrown back, tendons in his neck straining as he shot streams of come over his chest. The sight was so erotic, Andrew’s own release tore through him and his cries joined Jesse’s as his hips snapped once more, dick pulsing again and again inside Jesse’s body.

When he was spent, he collapsed on top of Jesse, burying his face in his neck, heart pounding. Jesse turned his face to nuzzle into his hair, while his hands stroked lightly down Andrew’s back, soothing and tender.

After a few minutes, Jesse spoke. “I’m in love with you too, you know.”

Andrew struggled to move, completely languid and sated, but needing to see Jesse’s beautiful face. He hitched an elbow underneath him to give him the leverage he needed and lifted his head.

He stared into Jesse’s gorgeous blue eyes, roamed his gaze over that beloved face, wanting to catalogue every tiny detail of this moment.

He smiled, all the love and devotion he felt for this remarkable man shining strongly through.

“How fortuitous,” he said.

Jesse’s dimpled smile was everything he’d ever need.

The end.


End file.
